


Stargazer Lilies

by renjunsfairydust



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Child Neglect, Childhood Friends, Denial of Feelings, First Love, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Self-Esteem Issues, cakes and bakeries, jeno is renjun’s muse, jeno likes stars, physiotherapist jeno, pls read the tags, professional ballet dancer renjun
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-30
Updated: 2020-10-05
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:01:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 98,984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24431752
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/renjunsfairydust/pseuds/renjunsfairydust
Summary: Just as fate is written in the stars, Jeno and Renjun would always be pulled back to each other. Ballet was Renjun's dream, but he was lost without his muse.
Relationships: Huang Ren Jun/Lee Jeno
Comments: 271
Kudos: 442





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mood music for the entire fic here: [playlist 🎶 ](https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1Az3xVWhBIUSqZKa6HlmVN?si=Wu5TH_PrSKSx257KrU0QjA)  
> 
> 
> tw// mentions of minor character death at the start of the chapter 

Jeno knew his mother was dead. 

He knew the meaning of the word, of death. Life was a cycle, everything lived, and everything died, on paper it was simple, so comprehendible. But what the nine-year-old couldn’t quite wrap his head around was the empty feeling when he thought about her, the hollowness in his heart, no more gentle goodnights, no more hugs or rambling conversations on the walks to school. 

He watched the highway blur past him, the trees and the road signs all fading into one mass of colour as the car moved. 

_“She’s in the clouds.”_

His dad had told him that, when they stood in their empty lounge, waiting for the removal van to collect the boxes stacked up by the door. Jeno had nodded then, but he didn’t like to think like that. 

She wasn’t a cloud, _no_ , she was much higher than that, _his mother was a star_. That’s what she’d told him she’d become when she’d taken his hand three months ago, stroked over his thumb as he’d broken down sobbing into the crook of her neck. She had her own room in the hospital, it was quiet, and they’d visit most days. Everything felt like so long ago, but it was only three months. Three months since everything had changed. 

He almost smiled at the memory of her, but it was tainted by the bitter feeling of emptiness as he continued to stare blankly out of the car window. For most of the journey he’d faced away from his dad, watching the world outside, or tracing the raindrops with his index finger as they slid down the glass and disappeared. They turned off the highway, the roads became more secluded and the small town emerged. It was mostly houses here, not like the apartments in Seoul, and already it felt lonely. A line of stores appeared, small ones with wooden signs and high windows. Then it was countryside again, fields stretching out to the horizon, until a little parade of shops came into view. 

Jeno broke out of his trance when the car stopped, the gravel crunching under the wheels. He looked across at his dad, who smiled at him weakly. Turning towards the bakery, he studied the glass windows, dirtied by the passing of time, fogged up by lack of care and through them empty shelves lining the white walls. Jeno missed the old bakery, the one that his dad, and his mother, had run together, everything that was familiar and all that he’d ever known. After _it_ happened though, his dad said they needed to get away, somewhere different. Even at the tender age of nine, Jeno knew he was right, there were too many memories at the old place, so they sold it, packed up and moved down south. 

Jeno stayed silent, eyes falling to the denim of his torn jeans. He pulled at a loose thread, twisting it round his little finger and then letting go. 

“Here it is, our new start”, his dad said finally. 

Jeno’s eyes flicked up to the entrance of the bakery. 

“What do you think?” 

He thought that he wanted to be at home, at the old bakery, with his old friends, his old school, and with his mother. He loved his dad, and he knew his dad loved him, but they were both still hurting. 

He didn’t say anything. 

“It’ll be okay.” Jeno felt a hand take his smaller one gently, squeezing it as he looked up at his dad’s hesitant smile. “Let’s go and have a look”, he continued and Jeno relented, nodding sadly. 

“I know it’s not much yet, but we’ll make it ours. It’ll be the best bakery in town.” 

Jeno sighed dejectedly as he pushed open the door of the entrance, a small bell ringing above their heads as they walked through it. It shut softly and Jeno was faced with the emptiness, the bare walls with plaster crumbling off them, and the heaps of old mail and flyers stacked up on the doormat. He ran his finger along the edge of a windowsill, the dust that had collected on it floating to the floor. Coughing as the particles filled his lungs, he moved away and across the expanse of wooden flooring to where his dad stood. He watched him pull open an oven door, grimacing before turning back to Jeno. 

“We’ll have it sorted in no time”, he added swiftly, pacing towards the back of the shop. Jeno followed him, through to the store room where empty boxes lay overturned and metal shelving was pressed up against the walls. 

“We’d better see where we’ll be living then”, he heard his dad laugh weakly. 

Jeno was led up the small steps, to the rooms above the bakery. It was simple, a kitchen, a lounge, two bedrooms and a bathroom, all they needed. His dad peered into both of the bedrooms. 

“Which one do you want?”, he asked, looking at his son hopefully. 

Jeno shrugged his shoulders, glancing at them disinterestedly. He caught the glimpse of light in the second one though, noticing the window that cast onto the street below, and up towards the skyline, _to the stars_ , he thought. His face softened. “That one”, he said, pointing towards the smaller bedroom. 

“We can paint it whatever colour you want.” 

“Thanks dad.” 

The kitchen was run down, a little white oven in the corner, an old microwave on the side and the rusting kettle next to it. Jeno eyed the wooden table, poking it and causing it to wobble tentatively from the touch. 

“We’ll fix that too, it’ll feel more like home soon.” 

“It’s nice”, Jeno lied. 

The silence was heavy, his dad walking over to him and putting a hand on his shoulder. 

“It’ll take a bit of time, but we’ll be okay.” 

Jeno held back the tears pooling in the corners of his eyes, the sting aching as he listened. 

“I know you miss her, I do too. We’ll get through this though.” He was pulled into a hug, a hand on his back. “How about we order take out tonight? If the removal van gets here in time, we could watch a movie too, it might take your mind off things a bit.” 

Jeno sniffed and nodded his head, wiping his face with his shirt sleeve. “Yeah.” 

The van arrived two hours later, and boxes began to fill the emptiness of their new home. Jeno opened the ones in his room, taking out the soccer trophies he’d won at his last school and lining them along the shelf above his bed. They ate take out on the couch that night, Jeno recalled the pizza box he’d rested in his lap as he ignored the blaring of the movie on the screen, staring at the food blankly. Then, that night, when his dad had gone to sleep, he went to his bedroom and switched out all the lights, sitting on one of the boxes he’d placed by the window. The stars were brighter here, two hundred miles from Seoul, void of the glare and busy streets. He could see them clearly, their glow making him smile for the first time that day as he thought about his mother, it made him feel closer to her, made him forget everything else around him. 

From that moment, Jeno decided that he loved stars. 

The next day they unpacked, and the day after that they’d already started decorating the bakery, Jeno letting himself laugh as the two cleaned the place up, sweeping the floors, wiping the windows and the ovens. He remembered the sign he’d made, scribbled in purple marker pen, it read ‘opening soon’ and Jeno had stuck it on the back of the glass door of the bakery. He’d always been fascinated when they baked, and that didn’t change now, the empty shelves soon replaced by cakes and pastries. Jeno had taken the sign he’d made down, replacing it with an ‘open’ one printed in inky black font. Then the customers came, eager crowds sweeping in from across the small town in the heat of summer. Jeno distracted himself in those days, helped out all the times he could. 

Everything continued like that for the remainder of the summer and they found their new normal, they had to. Jeno’s life was simple to him, soccer, the bakery, and each night the stars, then repeating another cycle. When he’d told his dad he liked stars, they’d stuck plastic ones that glowed in the dark around his room, laughing as Jeno tried to reach up to the ceiling. For his tenth birthday, his dad had handed him a small black box with a switch on the side. He flicked it on and gazed in awe as stars were projected across the room in patterns of brilliant colour. He’d lock himself away with it at night, or he’d lay out in the garden on evenings that he could, watching the real ones shine in the sky. He’d stay out for hours, until he was called inside, and he stumbled through the back door with his dark hair scattered messily across his forehead. 

He’d told his dad why he liked stars, and he’d had the same sad expression, the one he’d seen when he told him about his mother, but he’d smiled and ruffled Jeno’s hair. 

It was those times that Jeno realised just how much his life had changed. 

\--

A whole year passed to the next summer. Jeno wasn’t exactly sure where it went, he was numb, getting through the days with the weight of grief. But as time moved on, it did what it was best at, healing, until Jeno could bear to think of his mother fondly and enjoy the things he used to like doing. School had started, there was only one elementary school here, in the centre of town. He’d been nervous, but classes seemed to be going well, and he’d managed to make a small group of friends. That year didn’t matter to him though, it was during the next one that his life had changed again, when it changed forever. 

He still helped his dad at the bakery sometimes, like he was now, that day in August when the sun flooded through the glass windows, the rays casting into Jeno’s eyes. Squinting as he tried to focus in the bright light, he saw his dad disappear into the store room. 

The bakery was popular, it was a hit, but today it was unusually quiet. Jeno wondered why but didn’t have time to ponder for long. 

There was a boy, standing in the entrance by himself. Jeno looked at him curiously. He was young, skinny with untamed hair strewn across his face. An oversized white t-shirt hung loosely from his small shoulders with baggy black shorts that reached the tops of his knees. The boy’s dirty red sneakers were tied in double knots and he stepped forward, glancing behind the glass counter. He looked up, and his gaze caught Jeno’s, he smiled widely, a toothy grin, and then his eyes flicked back to the shelves. Jeno hadn’t seen him before, which was strange because everybody knew everybody here. The boy clutched a handful of crumpled notes in his palm. 

“I haven’t seen you before”, Jeno said aloud as he continued to stare at the small boy. 

“I just moved here, a few days ago”, the boy spoke hesitantly, rocking back on his heels. 

“How old are you?” 

“Ten.” 

“I’m ten too”, Jeno babbled. “I thought you were younger.” 

The boy shook his head. 

“Are you starting school next week?”, Jeno continued, the smaller nodding. “You’re going to Riverside?” 

“Yeah.” 

“We might be in the same class”, Jeno shot back but was interrupted as his dad burst through the doors, leaning over the counter, and smiling. 

“What can I get you?”, he asked the boy, who held the handful of notes out. 

“Two of those”, the boy answered, pointing to the bread Jeno had arranged carefully along the bottom shelf. Jeno took a paper bag from next to him, placing two of the loaves inside and folding over the top. He watched as the boy looked at the money again, “and one of those.” He pointed to a cake on the next shelf up. It was small, with yellow cream and strawberries stuck to the top. Jeno took the slice and placed it in a separate bag. 

“Is this enough?”, the boy asked, pushing the money forward shyly towards Jeno’s dad. 

He inspected it for a moment. “Not quite, that’ll cover the bread though”, he said softly with an apologetic smile. 

Jeno saw his face drop, the boy nodding as he played with his fingers. 

“You can have it”, Jeno cut in suddenly, only realising it was him that had spoken a few seconds later when the boy’s face lit up. He glanced at his dad for affirmation, who looked at the boy again. 

“Yes, you can have it”, he sighed with a kindly laugh. 

The boy’s lips curved into a wide smile as Jeno handed him both bags. “Thank you”, he said quickly and Jeno expected him to leave. He didn’t though, instead rummaging inside one of the bags and pulling out the cake hastily. Jeno watched him take the first bite slowly, a soft hum resonating as he took another, and another as he stuffed more of the slice into his mouth, cramming it in hurriedly. 

“What’s your name?” 

“Renjun”, the boy said, his mouth full of cake. 

“I’m Jeno.” 

That wasn’t the last time he saw the boy. The next day Renjun appeared again in the doorway of the bakery, wearing the same white t-shirt and red sneakers. Jeno was standing near the front of the shop, placing pastries on the shelves by the window. When he saw Renjun running towards the entrance he paused in favour of diverting his attention to the other. Renjun was panting, arm outstretched with a silver coin flat against the inside of his palm. 

“Here.” 

“What’s that for?”, Jeno frowned. 

“I found it.” Renjun held his hand out further, waving the coin in front of Jeno, “for the cake.” 

Jeno laughed, taking it out of Renjun’s hand. His palm was hot and sweaty, probably from the running he thought, as he placed it in a dish on the counter. 

“You didn’t have to, but thanks.” He smiled at Renjun. “You should come back at the end of the day, we always have left over cakes, you can take some if you want.” 

Renjun shook his head. “I don’t have anymore money.” 

“You don’t have to pay”, Jeno replied. “We usually just throw them away.” 

“Really?” 

“Yeah”, Jeno laughed. 

At the end of the day, Renjun _did_ come back. Jeno had gone to his room before that, his dad packing up for the day, and taken his soccer ball from beside the bed. He tucked it under his arm and stumbled down the stairs into the bakery, catching Renjun’s eyes as he entered. 

“You came back.” 

“Are there any cakes?”, Renjun asked, grinning. 

Jeno nodded to the tray on the counter where the cakes that hadn’t sold that day were left out. “A few.” He ran over to them, placing the soccer ball on the floor as he put two of the slices into a bag and held it out to Renjun. The boy didn’t take it though. 

“What are you doing with that?” Renjun tilted his head and pointed at the soccer ball. 

“Going to the park.” Jeno put the bag down, reaching and taking the ball. He placed it under his arm again casually. 

“I haven’t been there yet”, Renjun said in a small voice, still fixated on the ball. Everything seemed fascinating to him, like the world was a wonder. 

“Want to come with me? It’ll be better with two”, Jeno proposed, throwing the ball into the air once and catching it. The boy nodded and smiled. “You can get the cakes on the way back if you want”, Jeno continued and Renjun nodded again. 

Renjun followed Jeno out of the shop and they crossed the street together to the line of trees that guided them to the park. The shade they gave shielded them from the heat of the sun and Jeno looked across at Renjun, whose red sneakers were digging into the muddy path with each step he took. 

“Won’t your parents be worried about you?”, Jeno said quietly. 

“It’ll be fine”, Renjun answered, fixed on the path ahead. 

The park was mostly empty when they arrived. Jeno skipped to one end of it where rusted metal goal posts were secured in the grass. Renjun stood in goal first, Jeno kicking the ball and watching as it rolled past the boy who tried valiantly to block its path. 

“Have you played soccer before?”, Jeno called. 

“No.” 

Half an hour later, and more failed attempts from Renjun, Jeno watched as the boy’s foot caught in the mud and he slipped, hitting the hard ground below and gasping. 

“Ahh”, Renjun cried out as he held his arm against his chest and sucked in his breath through his teeth. 

Jeno ran to him and bent down. “Are you okay?” 

“My arm hurts”, Renjun whined, clutching it tighter as he blinked back tears. 

“Let me see”, Jeno said, pulling his arm carefully so it extended. Renjun’s sleeve was muddy but there were no bruises. “I don’t think it’s broken.” 

“How do you know that?”, the boy questioned, awed as he sniffed lightly. 

Jeno always had an interest in people and how they worked. He had a book about the human body under his bed, it was basic with pictures inside it and tabs that could be pulled to make the diagrams move. There was a section about broken bones he’d read. 

“I want to be a doctor”, Jeno stated, “I want to fix people.” He shrugged his shoulders, “or a soccer player, I haven’t decided yet.” 

Renjun nodded, still dazed from his fall as Jeno pressed along his arm again. He winced when Jeno put pressure on the damaged area, squeezing his eyes shut tightly. 

“I’m sorry”, Jeno rushed, letting go quickly. 

“It’s okay”, Renjun said as he wiped his tears with the back of his hand. “It feels better now.” 

Jeno looked at Renjun, his eyes were hazy, pupils melting into golden irises. They glowed with the colours of the setting sun behind the trees. 

He smiled. 

\--

The next day, Renjun appeared at lunch time. It didn’t seem like he had a reason, but he stood in the doorway, staring silently at Jeno who was sitting behind the counter on a stool. It was quiet, Renjun blinked twice before he spoke nervously. 

“Do you want to do something?”, he called across the room. 

Jeno stopped staring, lips curving up into a mischievous smile. He slipped off the stool, turned and poked his head round to the store room. 

“Dad can I go out?”, he asked quickly and the other nodded. 

“Be back by closing time though”, his dad shot at him with a feigned stern look. “I need your help with clean up.” 

Jeno grinned and went back into the main room, Renjun now standing in front of the glass that separated the two, staring at the lines of cakes. He snapped out of his trance when he heard Jeno. 

“Where do you want to go?”, Jeno asked. 

Renjun hesitated as Jeno lifted the hatch and shut it behind him, standing opposite the smaller. 

“I didn’t think that far.” 

Jeno thought for a moment as the other studied him. 

“I know a place”, he said finally. 

They walked further than yesterday, past the trees and the park. Jeno listened for the sound of the river, Renjun’s eyes widening with curiosity as the water came into view. He came here a lot, by himself, just to watch the water pass under the bridge, listen to the sound of it hitting the rocks that stuck out underneath. 

“I like it here, it’s quiet.” Jeno ran down to the pebbly bank, picking up a stone and throwing it into the river with precision. It bounced three times, skimming the water before it plopped below the surface. He heard footsteps behind him, feeling Renjun peer over his shoulder. 

“How did you do that?” 

“You’ve never skimmed stones before?”, Jeno frowned, turning to Renjun. 

“No.” Renjun shook his head. “How do you do it?” 

“Find a flat stone”, Jeno said as he reached down to the array of pebbles and picked up a small one. Renjun mimicked his actions, taking a larger, rounder one and looking at Jeno as he awaited the next instruction. “Hold it between your thumb and this finger.” Jeno pinched the stone as he had described. “Then you throw”, he finished, the stone hitting the water four times before it dipped out of sight. 

Renjun threw his, it didn’t bounce, tumbling into the water in one splash. 

“Oh.” 

“Try again”, Jeno laughed. 

Renjun picked up another, but it did the same, falling straight into the water. 

“I can’t do it”, he protested. 

“Yes, you can”, Jeno insisted, taking another pebble, and handing it to him. Renjun flicked it, and this time it bounced twice before disappearing. Still, it was enough to make the boy beam. 

“There”, Jeno said with a grin. “I told you.” 

They skimmed stones for the next twenty minutes, Renjun squeaking with excitement each time one of his throws was successful. Jeno paused before he was about to hurl another one of the pebbles. 

“What do you think about this place, this town?”, he asked and threw the stone, reaching down for another. 

“It’s quiet”, Renjun answered. 

“That’s what I thought when we moved here too”, Jeno mused. 

“How long have you been here?” 

“Only a year. I moved from Seoul, it’s far away.” 

“I moved from Jilin.” 

“Where?” 

"It's in China." 

“Oh, that’s further”, Jeno said awkwardly. “How do you speak Korean so well?” 

“I learnt it.” Renjun skimmed another stone. “Before we came here, we lived with my aunt in Busan.” He didn’t say anything else about it, it didn’t seem like he wanted to. “What’s Seoul like Jeno?” 

“Busy.” Jeno stuffed his hands in his jean’s pockets. “Noisy, but exciting.” 

“I think it’s exiting here”, Renjun commented, pointing at the river. 

“You do?” 

“I like the places you’ve shown me.” 

“Oh.” Jeno shook his head. “Well, there’s something else I want to show you too.” He darted over to a pile of sticks gathered underneath one of the large trees by the river bank. “Get one of these.” Renjun followed and then they were walking up the slope, along a dirty path to the bridge. Jeno grasped the wooden railing and looked down at the clear water below. He held his stick in front of Renjun face. 

“It’s a race”, he said. “We drop them at the same time and see which one comes out the other side the quickest.” 

“Okay.” Renjun held the stick out over the bridge. 

“Three”, Jeno began, moving his stick so it hovered next to Renjun’s. 

“Two”, he continued, glancing at Renjun. They both laughed. 

“One.” 

They dropped their sticks and sprinted to the other side of the bridge, leaning over, and watching as they appeared with the flow of the river, Jeno’s ahead of Renjun’s. 

“You had a faster stick”, Renjun huffed, folding his arms as they stepped away and Jeno laughed quickly. 

“I’m sure you’ll beat me next time.” 

It was getting late now, the sun disappearing behind the horizon as darkness began to fill the sky. They walked away from the bridge together, Jeno looking skyward to the stars, and as he always did, he smiled briefly, distracted. 

Renjun stopped but Jeno didn’t notice. 

“Jeno?”, he heard the other say, finally zoning back into the world around him. 

“Sorry.” 

“I should go”, Renjun mumbled, shivering from the chill of the evening. 

“Do you live far away?” 

Renjun pointed in the distance and shook his head. “Up that hill.” 

Jeno nodded as they continued to trek the cobbled pathway. “Want me to walk with you?” 

“No thanks”, Renjun said quickly, the two standing at the corner of the road. Jeno watched as Renjun turned. 

“I’ll see you soon”, Jeno called after him. 

Renjun faced him again, waving a hand in the air and smiling. 

\--

As the week rolled on, the holidays drew to an end. Jeno had dug his school uniform out from the back of his closet. It was badly crumpled, and his dad had to iron the shirt and blazer for him, hanging them up on the back of his bedroom door. Two days later, Renjun came back to the bakery. He wasn’t surprised to see him, wearing the same dirty red sneakers he always wore. 

This time, Jeno had another idea. He’d seen Renjun staring at the pastries again, and he’d taken a basket from the side, filling it with things from behind the glass counter. They carried it to the river, Jeno halfway and Renjun the other half. The smaller set it down in the grass, sitting cross legged beside it, Jeno kneeling opposite him. He took one of the pastries and handed it to Renjun. Then he took one for himself, tearing away the paper and biting into the sweetness of the dough. 

“School starts tomorrow”, Renjun stated as he swallowed a mouthful. 

“You’ll be fine, everyone’s nice. I was really nervous too, but it gets better”, Jeno encouraged. “Hopefully, we’ll be in the same class anyway.” 

Renjun hummed and took another bite, the silence filling the air as he finished off the remainder quietly. 

“We’re friends aren’t we?”, Renjun asked, his eyes riddled with anxiety as he set the paper bag back in the basket. 

“Of course, we are.” Jeno laughed and pushed himself up on his palms, stopping when he saw the worry seeping from Renjun as the boy clasped his hands together. 

“You won’t leave me will you?” 

Jeno shook his head. “I won’t leave you Renjun.” 

\--

That week in summer ended, and school started, Jeno’s t-shirt and jeans replaced by school uniform and brushed back hair. 

The next time he saw Renjun was at school. The boy was standing at the front of the classroom next to their teacher, fiddling with the ends of his blazer sleeves nervously as she addressed everyone. His uniform was just like Jeno’s, although a little baggier on his small frame, the dark green blazer and the beige shorts that hung below his knees, white shirt buttoned up messily. 

“This is Renjun”, their teacher began, her voice dripping with honey as she gestured Renjun forward. “He’s just moved here, he’ll be joining us for the year.” Renjun scanned the classroom until his gaze met with Jeno, who smiled, but his head snapped round to their teacher as she continued. 

“Would anyone like to volunteer to look after him this week?” 

Jeno’s hand shot up immediately and he waved it in the air, grinning from the back of the classroom. 

“Jeno, your hand was up first”, she called. “Can you show Renjun around this afternoon?” 

Jeno nodded and Renjun walked over to the seat next to him. 

“Hey”, Jeno remarked. 

Renjun smiled at him warmly. “Hey.” 

Their friendship only deepened after that day, and the first time Renjun had called Jeno his best friend, it had made Jeno smile at him fondly as they sat on the grass under the trees one break time. A lot of that year was a blur for Jeno, a blur filled with Renjun and late-night conversations by the river, of walking home and talks under the stars. They were precious memories, ones he knew would stay with him forever. 

The first time he’d wanted to protect Renjun was in the fall of that year. It was a few weeks after school had started, the leaves outside having turned shades of amber and brown as they fell from the trees, from the one they always sat underneath in the playground, their comfort replaced by bare branches. The rain poured down on the windows of the classroom, clattering against the glass and the wind blew the raindrops across the panels. It was art that day, the tables littered with paints and brushes. Jeno reached across Renjun and dipped his brush into the pot of bright yellow paint, running it in one stroke over the outline of the star he’d traced on his paper. Renjun peered up from his own, red apron tied in a small bow at the side. 

“You really like stars”, Renjun observed, pointing with his brush at Jeno’s page. 

“Yeah.” 

“Why?”, Renjun asked innocently. 

He wasn’t the first person to ask Jeno that, people had seen the stars before, listened to him talking about them sometimes. He’d always give the same answer, the same one he gave to Renjun right now. 

He shrugged his shoulders. “I just like them”, he said and dipped his brush into the paint pot again. 

Renjun nodded and looked back down at his own work, staring for a moment before taking his own paint brush and filling in the tiny details of the figures he’d drawn. Jeno glanced at it, a line of people holding hands, a woman and a man, a smaller figure next to them, a child, maybe Renjun. 

“Is that your mom and dad?” Jeno pointed at the figures on the page. 

“Yeah.” 

“It’s good”, Jeno said, picking up his paint brush again clumsily. It was wet and a few of the murky droplets flew onto Renjun’s arms. The boy jumped back slightly as the cold water hit his skin, yelping, but the sound soon transformed into a small laugh. 

“I’m sorry.” Jeno’s eyes widened in alarm. 

“It’s okay”, Renjun giggled. 

Jeno reached for a tissue next to him and held it out to Renjun. He took it and dabbed the paper across his forearms to wipe the paint away. 

The two worked quietly again, Renjun clutching a pot of red paint, as the other children in the class laughed and chattered around them. All of a sudden Renjun let out a cry of protest. Jeno’s head shot up and his eyes narrowed as they met with the figure now grasping the red paint Renjun had been holding. It was Youngmin, he was bigger than Renjun, taller and broader. They’d been on the soccer team together last year but Jeno hadn’t spoken to him much outside of that. He glared at him, eyes burning with anger as he dropped his paint brush, reaching for the pot. The boy pulled it closer towards his chest and took a step back. 

“Jeno”, Renjun murmured from behind him. 

“Give it back”, Jeno growled. 

“No”, Youngmin laughed. _“I want it_ , it’s not yours anyway.” He gave Jeno a mocking sneer as he tapped his fingers against the pot. 

“Renjun was using it”, Jeno said angrily and gritted his teeth. “Give it back.” 

“Jeno it’s okay, I’ll use another colour”, Renjun insisted from behind him but his glare was locked with Youngmin’s. 

“Fine”, Youngmin relented, slamming the pot back on the table and storming off to the opposite side of the classroom. A few of the other kids had noticed the commotion now but Jeno didn’t care. He picked up the paint and handed it back to Renjun, the boy staring at him open mouthed. 

“Thanks”, he said quietly and Jeno’s face softened. The outline of the star had been filled with block colour now and Jeno clasped the paper in his hands, holding it towards the window so the light shone through it. He turned to Renjun and grinned. 

“It’s pretty”, Renjun commented. 

Jeno watched as the reflection of the yellow paint caused a glow to light up on the other’s face. 

\--

The first time Jeno saw Renjun’s house, they were ten. 

Their routines continued, they stuck together and walked home on the days that Jeno didn’t stay behind after school to play soccer. The fallen leaves had scattered along the paths next to the road and it was getting cooler as the season changed. The bakery was on the way to Renjun’s house, that’s what Renjun had told him anyway. 

Jeno pushed open the door, smiling tentatively at his dad with Renjun peering over his shoulder. 

“Hello Jeno”, his dad smiled then looked behind him, “hello Renjun.” 

“Hi Mr Lee”, Renjun called, stepping out so he was next to Jeno. 

“You two coming inside?” 

Renjun glanced at Jeno, who looked at his dad and nodded, pulling Renjun excitedly by the arm and to the stairs. They’d made a habit of this now and the two would sit in Jeno’s room for hours, until it started to get dark and Renjun would say he needed to leave. 

Today though, they laid across Jeno’s bed together silently. Renjun rolled onto his stomach, his arms dangling lazily off the edge of the bed. He looked down, attention caught by a small box under the wooden frame. 

“What’s that?”, Renjun asked, pointing to something Jeno couldn’t see. 

Jeno rolled onto his stomach too, laying next to Renjun and reaching down. 

It was the projector, the one that scattered stars across the ceiling. Jeno had forgotten to put it back in the closet last night. He breathed in deeply, taking the box and placing it on the bed between them. He grasped the small square object and flicked the switch at the side. The bright yellow of the artificial light filled the room and Renjun’s eyes cast upwards. 

“Stars”, he breathed quietly and smiled knowingly at the other. 

They watched the colours in the silence of Jeno’s room, just the two of them, some of the stars glowing on Renjun’s white school shirt. 

“Renjun?”, Jeno broke through the silence. 

“Yeah.” 

“Can I come to your house one day?” 

“No.” 

Jeno looked down in disappointment, pouting. “Oh.” 

“Look”, Renjun rushed, the smile returning to his eyes as he stood up on the mattress suddenly. His fingers grazed the wall, where the flecks of stars that hadn’t quite reached the ceiling were scattered. He traced them with the pad of his index finger, and they flickered on his hand. “I can touch the stars,” he giggled. 

They’d been distracted that day, so distracted by lights that when the darkness consumed the world outside, they hadn’t noticed. When Jeno’s dad had come to check on his son and seen that Renjun was still there, he’d insisted they take him home in the car, that he couldn’t walk back at this time. Renjun seemed hesitant at first but nodded gently as he packed up his school bag. 

They sat in the back of the car together, Renjun’s bag pressed against his chest and Jeno kicking his legs in the space between the seats as they chatted idly. 

Renjun’s house was drab, plain with grey window frames and a small patio with overgrown grass that led to the front door. Jeno stared at the entrance as he heard the sound of Renjun unbuckling his seatbelt. 

“Thank you”, Renjun stuttered, his cheeks red even in the darkness of the silvery moonlight that poured onto his face. He shut the car door and stumbled towards the house. 

Jeno watched the spot where he’d been as his dad pulled away in the car. 

\--

Then Jeno cried in front of Renjun for the first time. 

It was another night, a familiar scene for them, by the bank of the river, an evening in October when the cold air nipped at their exposed skin. They were laying in the grass, on their backs as they studied the stars together, just as Jeno liked it, pointing out the constellations aligned in the sky. It had gone silent now, and Renjun was sitting up in the grass, still staring with ease at the sky above. 

“Why do you _really_ like stars Jeno?”, Renjun asked quietly, pulling his knees up to his chest. 

Jeno could make up another lie, something superficial, and the other would never know. But he looked at Renjun, the ten-year old’s eyes sullen and clouded with sadness. 

“They remind me of my mom.” 

Jeno waited, Renjun shifting in the grass so he was closer, the two facing out to the river. The only sound around them was the rhythmic flowing of the water over the rocks and the gentle breeze through the bare tree branches. Jeno felt all too exposed, but the response he got made him freeze up. 

“We both have one parent”, Renjun whispered, resting his chin on his knees. He wasn’t looking at Jeno. 

Jeno was voiceless, he knew Renjun was secretive, but he hadn’t expected this. 

“Which one do you have?”, Jeno asked, voice hoarse as memories of his mother flooded back. 

“My mom”, Renjun said blankly, still facing away, “sometimes”, he finished in a choked whisper, almost too quiet for Jeno to hear, _almost_. 

“My mom’s dead.” The words hurt Jeno when he spoke them aloud, it felt different to the silent thoughts of his mother that would drift into his memories sometimes. 

“Oh.” 

“It’s okay”, Jeno continued. 

There was more silence between them. It hurt, the sting of the words dissolving as they were spoken aloud and transforming into tears in the corners of his eyes. He swallowed, blinking them back as he focused on a spot on the opposite bank of the river. Jeno willed them to stay in, but they spilt, rolling down his cheeks. Choking once, they became more uncontrolled and he covered his mouth with the back of his hand to muffle the sound. He could feel Renjun’s stare on the side of his face, but he didn’t say anything, he couldn’t speak. 

He didn’t even register the warmth that had wrapped itself around his torso, or the mess of brown hair that felt soft on his wet cheeks, the hand stroking down his back. Leaning into it, Renjun pulled him into an embrace. They didn’t speak, they didn’t need to, the silence spoke for how they felt as Jeno let himself cry onto Renjun’s shoulder. 

The world around them disappeared in those moments. 

\--

Jeno hadn’t talked to Renjun at school the next day. 

It was lunchtime now. He sat on the wall at the edge of the playground, kicking his feet into the dirt on the ground. 

“Why are you avoiding me?” 

Jeno looked up, Renjun was standing in front of him, arms folded as he searched Jeno’s face. 

“I’m not avoiding you.” Jeno looked at the floor again. 

Renjun stepped forward, sitting on the wall next to him. He brought his head up. 

“Yes, you are”, Renjun spoke. 

Jeno sighed as his shoulders sunk. “I don’t like crying.” 

“It’s okay”, Renjun started cheerfully, swinging his feet. “I cry a lot too.” 

Jeno scrunched his face up in confusion as he wiped his eyes. 

It was comments like those, and things Renjun did, that made Jeno start to question, to wonder what exactly Renjun was hiding from him. He should have seen it before. After that day, he started to pay attention to other details, to take notice where he hadn’t done before. Like the times he’d pull out his lunch from his bag and Renjun would sit still on the bench next to him. 

“Where’s your lunch?”, Jeno said as he stuck his chopsticks into the ball of rice in his lunchbox. 

“I forgot it today.” 

“Again?” 

Renjun smiled. “Yeah.” 

Jeno frowned but didn’t argue with him. Instead, he broke the ball of rice in half and put it onto the lid of the box. He took the spare chopsticks his dad had packed and held them out to Renjun. The other stared at the food, then back at Jeno. 

“Here.” Jeno held out the lid again and this time Renjun took it, scooping up some of the rice quickly. 

Renjun would often ‘forget’ his lunch, fidgeting nervously each time Jeno asked him about it. He was either very forgetful, Jeno thought, or there was something that he wasn’t telling him. 

From that day, Jeno always made sure he packed extra food. 

\--

That first year of school, Jeno saw Renjun’s mother, only once. She was waiting at the gates for him one afternoon in the winter with her jacket pulled tightly across her figure. She resembled him, small and thin with features that seemed like they could have once been dainty but were tired and sunken. Jeno didn’t have a lot of experience with life, but even then he thought that she looked sad, her expression, her eyes, everything. Her dark hair reached her shoulders and she smiled weakly when she saw Renjun, waving a hand in the air. There was a man next to her, sliding his hand around her waist as he let out an exasperated sigh. 

Renjun stopped, and Jeno did too as he saw the figures. 

“Your mom?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Who’s that?”, Jeno nodded to the man next to her. 

“I don’t know.” 

Jeno would learn years from now that Renjun’s mother never kept people around for long. Renjun was her only constant, and even there she was barely clinging on. 

He never saw the man again after that day. 

\--

The months passed, and the cold continued, into March. It was another one of those evenings, the ones where the air was crisp against the window panes as it crept through the gaps between the glass. Renjun had shown up at the bakery on a Saturday evening. He stood opposite Jeno and his dad, smiling his usual grin. 

“I’m eleven today”, he said proudly but with a hint of sadness in his voice. Jeno knew Renjun well enough now to tell when the other was upset, although Renjun was an expert at hiding it. 

“Aren’t you going to spend time with your mom?”, Jeno asked cautiously. 

Renjun hesitated. “She’s working”, he mumbled. 

“You’re on your own?”, his dad interrupted. 

“Yeah.” 

Jeno took one of the cakes out from the glass counter, a pink one with white cream spilling over the sides, the one Renjun had been staring at with wide eyes. His dad opened a drawer, pulling out a box of sparklers from the back of it, they only got them out on special occasions. Renjun turning eleven was definitely one of those, and they’d all gone outside to the garden. Renjun shivered on the steps, teeth chattering, his thin sweater not enough to protect him from the harsh winter chill outside. Jeno had run back inside, taking a coat and a blue woolly hat from one of the drawers in his bedroom and bringing them back. Renjun put them on tentatively, the hat covering his eyes briefly before he straightened it. The two giggled as Jeno’s dad lit the sparklers, the glow of light suddenly drawing their attention. 

Jeno could see clouds of their breath rise, making the air hazy and mixing as they laughed. Renjun swung the sparkler round in circles, gasping as he gazed at the fiery flashes. It was then Jeno knew for sure he wanted to take all the sadness away from his best friend’s eyes and make him smile forever. 

The sparklers looked like his very own star. Jeno tried to draw one with the stick but the light faded before he could complete the points, leaving the darkness of the evening. Jeno shoved his hands into his pocket to shield them from the chill, turning and smiling. 

“Happy birthday Renjun”, he whispered. 

\--

The summer of that year, Renjun had got the main part in the school production. 

Jeno watched from the crowds of people that had gathered to see the show, his best friend up on stage. He was struck by a feeling, a feeling that was where he belonged, his own feelings of pride radiating. The shy boy he knew, the quiet one, transformed as he delivered his lines perfectly across the tiny theatre. He commanded the stage, the boy so small but his movements so grand, so graceful. Jeno smiled, Renjun’s confidence stunning the audience around him. 

He was mesmerised and afterwards he’d met Renjun outside the changing rooms, holding out a bag of candy he’d bought from the cafeteria to the other who swiped it and grinned. 

“That was amazing.” 

“Thanks.” 

“How can you be so”, Jeno paused, “confident? You’re not normally like that.” 

“I don’t have to be me.” 

\--

Summer was nearly over. 

Jeno and Renjun sat by the river, their habit. They’d walked here after school, still in their uniforms as they sat on the bank. Renjun didn’t want to go home yet and Jeno didn’t want to leave him, so they stayed, watching the scenery quietly. 

Renjun’s head rose suddenly. “Look at those flowers.” He pointed to the bed of white and pink blossoms by the water’s edge. 

“Stargazer lilies.” 

He recognised the stargazer lilies. It was all in the name. His mother used to put them in the vase in their kitchen by the window. She would take him with her to buy them from the florist across the street sometimes, he’d carry the stems back and she’d unwrap them from the clear plastic, arranging them carefully. 

“How did you know that?”, Renjun said. 

“I like the name”, Jeno laughed. 

“Stars, of course you do.” Renjun rolled his eyes playfully and turned onto his stomach. 

“What are you doing?” 

“Getting a better look”, Renjun answered casually, rolling once and tumbling down the bank until his face was in front of the flowers. He peered up the bank at Jeno, blades of grass stuck in random places on the surface of his blazer and the ends of his hair sticking up haphazardly. “Are you coming?” 

Jeno shook his head playfully at the sight, turning onto his own stomach and sighing as he rolled down the hill, landing messily next to where Renjun lay. They both laughed softly as they glanced up at the flowers that hung above their heads. 

Jeno thought about those times a lot, the halcyon days of their youth together, the times he had Renjun to himself. He looked across, Renjun’s head thrown back into the grass as he laughed loudly. 

Everything was so much easier back then, although at the time it had still felt as though they carried the weight of the world on their shoulders. They laughed and they smiled at each other, among the stargazer lilies. 

Jeno knew that was the happiest he had been since he lost his mother, and that if she could see him now, she would be smiling. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello everyone it’s elle ! welcome to stargazer lilies I hope you enjoyed the first chap and exploring jeno’s character establishment as well as the introduction of renjun - the next chapter will focalise renjun’s experience of the world and hopefully some of the questions surrounding this chapter will be answered. 
> 
> This fic will follow noren through from childhood to adulthood with a focus on the latter but the establishment of their feelings is something I wanted to focus on here <3 
> 
> my twitter is **@renjunfairydust** if anyone wants to follow me or be friends I’d love to! My cc is also linked below <3 Thank you for reading and kudos + comments are always deeply appreciated!!
> 
> [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.qa/renjunfairydust)


	2. Chapter 2

Renjun was ten the first time he told his mother about ballet. 

He was ten the first time he _tried_ to tell her about it. It was all because of the video tape, the one he’d found that day in summer, when they’d been unpacking the boxes in their new house. They hadn’t brought much, they didn’t have much to bring, all of it had come with them in one trip in his aunt’s car. He remembered the journey clearly, watching from the back with his feet resting on one of the boxes they’d slotted into the footwell, his mother in the passenger seat in front of him, biting her nails anxiously as she looked out the window. It felt like they were always moving, the two houses in China, the one in Busan, he was losing count. 

He liked his aunt a lot. She used to take him to school in the mornings, and other places too, the park and the movies at weekends. She told him things, like when she’d said they were waiting, that’s why they were staying with her, waiting for somewhere else. 

Then one day, the letter came. 

Renjun had stood in the corner of the hallway, watching his aunt and his mother open it together. They didn’t know he was there, then again, it was easy to go unnoticed if no one paid attention to you in the first place. His mother and his aunt fought a lot, but that day they weren’t fighting, they were happy. That’s what he’d figured when his mother sighed and drew his aunt into an embrace, still clutching the letter tightly. 

The next day, his aunt had sat him down at the table in the kitchen and told him they’d be leaving, Renjun and his mother. She said _they’d_ found them somewhere new to live. He wasn’t sure who exactly _they_ were at the time, he hadn’t heard of social housing, but he’d nodded anyway. 

He’d not seen his aunt since the day she left them here. It was just him and his mother. Him, his mother, and the people she brought back to their home. Strangers, it felt like there were new ones all the time, but there couldn’t have been. Sometimes they stayed around for weeks, sometimes it was a few months, and then they were gone. Some would try to talk to him, but most didn’t care that Renjun was there. It didn’t matter to him though, he didn’t care about any of them either, what stung were the feelings that arose at the thought that his mother seemed to pay more attention to those people than her own son. 

At ten all Renjun wanted was his mother, he didn’t have his aunt anymore and he’d never had a dad. He didn’t know who he was, and wasn’t sure if his mother did either. It wasn’t any of the men she brought home, because every time he brought up the subject she would shout at him, and she always spoke softly to the strangers she pulled through the doorway. 

When his mother got a job, the drinking had started – _the bottles_ as the ten year old referred to them in his head, the bottles she’d throw back when she thought no one was looking, the ones that made her shout, fall asleep on the couch or forget to cook. He’d been too naïve to understand at the time, or maybe he didn’t want to understand, maybe he knew all too well. He loved her, he didn’t think there was any way that he couldn’t, but he knew as far as mothers went, she wasn’t a particularly good one. 

The tape was his secret though. It made him forget about all of that, at least for a little while. The day he’d found it in that box, he’d traced the letters in cursive font on the cover. _Giselle_ \- It was dusty and a little faded, but he’d taken it upstairs to his bedroom and placed it beside his desk. He watched it on one of the nights his mother was out of the house, on the old video player plugged into the television in their lounge. The screen lit up with figures that moved with elegant grace across a stage and he’d flipped the box of the tape over and read – _ballet_. He’d looked back up at the screen, unable to tear his eyes away. It was enchanting, the way they moved, the strength, the control, and the precision. He hadn’t realised that dancing could tell stories, the tale of a prince and a woman who’s heart he broke. Renjun didn’t understand how someone could die from a broken heart, but he felt the emotions in every turn of the dance, every leap, and every poised point. 

He kept watching the tape, sometimes standing up from where he lay doing homework as he tried to mimic the movements he could see on the screen. In those times, everything was beautiful, and he didn’t need to think about anything else, not the discarded homework, or what time his mother would come home. 

Then he told _her_ about it, the ballet he’d been keeping so secret. 

It was in winter, the first winter they’d spent here. She’d cooked, and when Renjun saw the man walk through the front door he knew exactly why they were eating at the table that day. He’d watched from the chair that faced the stove as his mother stirred sauce in a pan slowly, the stranger’s fingers sliding across her waist, arms wrapping around her figure, travelling lower. 

Renjun looked down at his homework, pressed the pencil onto the page with just a little too much force as he glared at it. 

Dinner was silent, sat at the table together, Renjun, his mother, and the man he’d never seen before. 

“Do you like ballet?”, Renjun directed at the man. 

If silence could get any quieter, Renjun imagined that this was how it would sound. His mother stopped eating, shooting him a warning glare as she paused. 

“I like ballet”, Renjun continued, to no one in particular this time. 

“Ballet?”, his mother asked shakily. 

“Can I have lessons?” 

She didn’t say anything, Renjun watching her eyes cloud with something he hadn’t seen before, something that he couldn’t identify. Her stare hardened though, and she looked back at him, taking her chopsticks into her hands. 

“Renjun”, she began, sighing deeply, “stop talking and finish your food, it’s nearly your bedtime.” 

His mother gathered up the plates and placed them by the sink with the already growing pile of dirty dishes that had been collecting for days. 

That night when he’d gone upstairs, he’d curled up on his bed, throwing the sheets over his head and taking the single pillow he covered his ears, muffling the sounds, the ones he always heard when there were others at the house. Instead, he listened to his own heart beating, and slowly he was able to think again. 

_Tomorrow, the weekend would end, he could go to class and see Jeno_. He repeated the words like a mantra inside his head. 

The next day at dinner, the man wasn’t there, but his mother did cook again. She always did when she felt bad about something, Renjun thought it was her way of apologising. He watched her place the dish in front of him. 

“Dumplings”, she smiled. “Your favourite.” 

“That was when I was six.” 

She pushed the plate closer to Renjun and after staring at it for a moment longer, he decided he was too hungry not to give in. 

It was silent again, his mother glancing up from her own food every few seconds to scan over Renjun’s face, but he stopped eating. 

“The ballet classes, I was looking and-“ 

Her chopsticks clattered against the ceramic bowl. “Drop it Renjun.” 

“But mom please-“ 

“You know I can’t afford it.” 

“I’m sorry”, Renjun murmured and started eating again, the view of his mother obscured by the mess of hair that had fallen into his eyes, he didn’t bother to move it away. 

He never forgot the bottle she brought home with her the next night. 

\--

Ballet became something bad after that day, it was forbidden. The tape he’d kept beside his desk was now hidden at the back of his closet, because ballet wasn’t allowed, that’s what she’d made him believe. 

He still danced in secret, he wasn’t sure he could stop if he tried, pointing his toes like the figures on the screen to see how far he could stretch them. It consumed him entirely, all of his thoughts focused on the exhilaration and sting of each movement. 

But when he turned twelve, he shared his secret again. He shared it with the boy from the bakery, with Lee Jeno. The two years since he’d moved here had felt like the least lonely in his life. It was summer, one summer on from when he’d first met Jeno and they were perched on the swings that faced towards the river. 

Renjun dug his red sneakers into the grass as he stopped the gentle swinging. He’d washed them this morning, with his mother’s work uniform, leaving it folded on her bed before he left. The evening was still and the sun was setting, hues of orange painting the sky like the embers of a fire. 

“I want to learn ballet.” 

“You don’t dance”, Jeno laughed, his eyes scrunching into soft crescents. 

“Yes, I do”, Renjun said indignantly. “Look.” 

He let go of the metal that hung from the top of the swing, his body sliding off the seat easily as he jumped onto the grass. 

“What are you doing?” 

“Dancing for you”, Renjun stated, bowing lightly. He heard Jeno let out a small laugh as he brought his head back up. 

Then he was dancing, the cool air of the midsummer evening brushing against his skin as he extended a leg out and pointed his foot. It was clumsy and unrefined, the way his sneakers stamped in the grass as he tried to make his actions graceful, but he watched Jeno’s face, the fading sunset casting a warm shadow on it before slipping behind the clouds. He noticed each time his face changed, every expression written clearly as he fixated on Renjun’s dancing. 

When he stopped it was silent and he averted his gaze to the grass in embarrassment, the realisation of what he’d just done finally hitting him. _Ballet was bad._

“Have you had lessons?” Jeno cut through the quiet. 

“No.” 

“You should, you’re good.” 

“I want to.” Renjun’s head shot up but he stopped himself before he could say anymore. 

As the sky grew darker, it became studded with silvery stars, and the two of them moved to lay side by side in the grass. 

“Jeno?” 

“Yeah?” The other turned, smiling warmly at Renjun. 

“When I’m on stage, in the future”, he dared, Jeno nodding. “You can be my assistant.” 

“No”, Jeno huffed. 

“Okay, my manager.” 

“Sounds slightly better”, Jeno laughed, pausing as he thought. “Why do you like it?” 

Renjun shrugged. “You like stuff like that too, don’t you? When I hurt my arm, you said you liked bones.” 

Jeno raised an eyebrow. “That’s not the same.” 

“Have you seen the way a ballet dancer moves?” 

Jeno shook his head. 

\--

The next day, Renjun took the tape out from the back of his closet and ran out of the house with it, closing the front door quietly, down the hill that wound through the town to the bakery. The entrance was lit up with a glow of warm light in the static of the evening. He clutched the tape tighter against his chest as he stepped through it. 

When Jeno noticed him, he smiled widely. “Have you come for cake?”, he grinned but his eyes stopped on the tape Renjun was grasping. 

Renjun flashed Jeno the tape. “I need to show you something.” 

“What’s that?” 

“It’s ballet”, Renjun stated. 

“It’s a bit old”, Jeno frowned as he peered at the faded cover. 

Renjun lowered it, feeling the heat of embarrassment on his cheeks. It _was_ old, but the video player at his house was all he’d ever known. 

“I think we still have one of those, somewhere.” 

Jeno’s dad disappeared into the attic upstairs, returning with a dusty video player he dragged out from it. Jeno plugged it into the wall socket in the lounge and it buzzed nosily. Renjun inserted the tape carefully and they sat cross legged on the couch as the familiar scenes of the ballet flashed onto the screen. He remembered the times he’d sat under the clinical yellowy light at his house and watched it, but something about Jeno’s lounge was different, it was warm like home, and he wasn’t alone this time. He glanced over to Jeno at intervals, the boy concentrating as he took in the details. 

Renjun leaned over at the halfway point, tapping the pause button and the music stopped abruptly. 

“Do you like it?” 

“It’s like when you danced, in the park”, Jeno answered. 

“It’s _much_ better”, Renjun laughed as he sat back on the soft couch. “I want to be that good.” 

“How are you going to do it?” 

Renjun thought about his mother. _Ballet was bad_ , he repeated, but in those moments he didn’t care. 

“I don’t know”, he replied truthfully. 

“My mom used to say you can do anything”, Jeno began, “if you want it enough”, he added as he shrugged his shoulders.

“I really want it.” 

He’d never wanted anything as much as he wanted this and when he was twelve, Jeno made him feel like ballet wasn’t a secret he needed to hide. 

\--

As another summer drew to a close, Renjun felt the days slip away as he spent them with his best friend. They were by the bank of the river again, on the bridge as they stared at the water beneath it. 

“One more week of break”, he heard Jeno say from next to him, but he didn’t look away from the water. 

“Yeah.” 

“Are you nervous?” 

“About what?” 

“High school.” 

Renjun peered over the bridge. “No”, he said casually. “Are you?” 

“Yeah.” 

Renjun looked at Jeno as he thought back to last year, how nervous he’d been, how nervous Jeno seemed right now. 

“Don’t be nervous.” He let go of the bridge railing, shifting so he faced Jeno completely. 

“What if nobody likes me?” 

“Everybody likes you Jeno.” It was true. Jeno had always been popular and Renjun had always followed behind him. “Have you got your uniform yet?”, he continued. 

“My dad went last week.” 

Renjun stayed quiet and nodded slowly, but he could feel Jeno’s eyes on him. 

“You haven’t got yours yet, have you?” 

“No”, Renjun answered. 

“When are you going to get it?” 

Renjun kept silent, staring at the water. 

“Shall I come with you?” 

He’d had to pester his mother for the money, but eventually she’d reached into her bag and slung a few notes at him like she always did. He’d met Jeno three days before school was starting up. The shop that sold the uniform was a bus ride away and they’d sat side by side near the back, Renjun digging the money from his pocket and counting it out in his lap. 

The woman in the shop smiled at them curiously as the two twelve-year olds entered, slipping out from behind the counter. Renjun tried the uniform on, the white sleeves of the shirt covering his wrists as he pushed them up his arm. 

Once he’d paid they left, using the leftover money at one the cafés along the high street. Then they laughed and chatted on the way back to the bus stop together as the day faded away. 

He thought moments like that would last forever. 

\--

Highschool was different though. 

The first day had started like normal, navy-blue uniforms and straightened shirts. It was big, much bigger than the elementary school across town, and students flooded the halls as they ran past in all directions. Renjun had glanced at Jeno nervously but the other simply smiled, nodding for them to keep shuffling towards the doors. 

After that, things had started to change. 

They weren’t in the same classes, Renjun was quiet and Jeno was confident. 

Jeno got in with the soccer crowd, Renjun didn’t. 

Drifting apart was no one’s fault, they were simply different people. Renjun didn’t have many friends, a few, but not close ones. He’d known Jeno would be popular, he’d learnt that now, the way the world worked. Jeno was one of those people destined to have friends. He’d memorised most of Jeno’s friendship group, and they weren’t bad people, they just weren’t the kind of people Renjun particularly wanted to spend time with. So, for the first time since they’d met, Renjun acted without Jeno, got on with things by himself as he’d grown up doing. He missed Jeno, and he hoped Jeno missed him too, but it was just life, they were still best friends. 

He’d been stuffing his textbooks into his locker on the day he heard the familiar voice call his name. 

“Renjun.” 

Renjun eyed Jeno cautiously as the other gave him an enthusiastic lopsided grin. 

“I wanted to show you this”, Jeno said breathlessly, holding out a green booklet with pages stapled together messily. Renjun grabbed it. “I was looking for soccer and I saw it.” 

Renjun scanned over the words on the page. 

“Yeeun said she was signing up, I thought you might want to as well.” 

Renjun knew Yeeun, she was in Jeno’s friendship group. She had a kind face and hair that reached her shoulders neatly. They’d spoken a few times but never anything significant. 

“I’m trying out for the soccer team”, Jeno continued, his school bag slung over his shoulder carelessly and the collar of his shirt ruffled. Renjun smiled fondly at him as he flicked his hair off his forehead. 

“I figured you would.” 

“Will you come and cheer for me if I do?” 

“I might.” Renjun laughed, feeling a sense of normality in those moments, like nothing had changed, maybe it hadn’t. 

“Can I keep this?” He held up the booklet and Jeno nodded, his eyes suddenly distracted. Renjun turned, seeing Jeno’s friends coming towards them. He quickly shut the booklet as they approached noisily and he felt one of them lean over his shoulder. 

“What clubs are you signing up for then?”, the voice jeered from behind him. 

“I don’t know yet”, Renjun replied guardedly and shoved the booklet into the front pocket of his backpack, swinging it over his shoulder. He shut his locker hastily. “I’ll see you later”, he said to Jeno and walked away. 

Once out of sight, he pulled the booklet out again, slamming it open on the page Jeno had been showing him, and smiled as he ran his thumb over the words softly. 

\--

There was no more money left in the stash under Renjun’s bed, he’d spent it. 

He gently held one of the black ballet shoes he’d bought yesterday. The slipper was light in his hand, soft, and he knelt on the cold floor of the changing room to slide both of them onto his feet. He could see himself in the mirror from here, the loose white t-shirt tucked into his black pants, and now the shoes. He stood up and stretched, raising himself up on the tips of his toes and smiling at his reflection as he pointed his feet proudly. 

The gym was already full when he pushed open the door that lunchtime, a few heads turning at the sound. He stopped in the entrance as the noise died down, the room of girls making Renjun swallow nervously. He looked over to a corner, the girl there waving at him with sparkly eyes and a wide smile. 

It was Yeeun. He didn’t move, but the small girl kept waving, beckoning to him between a poised stretch of her arm as she broke out of the position she’d been holding, and he walked towards her awkwardly. 

“Hey”, she said, reaching for the bar fixed to the wall and straightening her leg as she pointed her toes perfectly, ankle resting on the metal. 

“Hey”, Renjun mumbled. 

“You must be Renjun,” he heard suddenly and jumped. 

The teacher was behind him with a register in her hand, marking a line on the page with a pencil. She was dressed in a plain black leotard with a small skirt wrapped around her waist and her hair was tied back neatly. 

“Yeah.” 

“The others have started warm up already, you can join them”, she continued, turning on the balls of her feet and leaving. 

“Warm up?”, he asked as Yeeun put her hand on the metal bar again, raising the other one in front of her. 

“Like this”, she started slowly, her knees bending and her arm reaching above her head as her fingers curved neatly in time with her movements. 

Renjun clasped the bar where there was space, the metal cold against the heat of his palm. He watched Yeeun, concentrating as he bent his knees slowly to copy her actions. He could tell it was clumsy, nothing like the grace she conveyed with each gentle lift of her arm. 

“How long have you been doing this?”, he asked. 

“Since I was six”, Yeeun replied, reaching forward, taking the arm he’d outstretched and fixing it to curve the same way hers did. “My parents sent me to classes, and I do it out of habit now.” She straightened her back and smiled widely. “Anyway, it’s good for my posture.” 

“I’ve never had classes.” 

“This is your first time?” 

“Yeah.” Renjun’s hand dropped from the bar. 

“Don’t worry”, Yeeun said cheerfully. “It’s a mixed ability set.” She looked around at the girls stretching close to her. “There’s others here that have just started too.” 

He’d ended up in the group for beginners. Dancing like this was different to the times he’d dragged the big mirror out of his mother’s room and into the lounge when she wasn’t at home, letting the noise of the tape drown out the silence as he copied the movements in front of the glass. This was nothing like that, in the openness of the practice room, the wooden floors covering an expanse to the windows at its edges, he felt exposed, like everyone was waiting for him to make a mistake. He glanced behind him quickly, Yeeun twirling alone as she completed a move he’d never seen before. He watched in awe as she stopped, catching his eye, and smiling at him. He wanted to dislike her, he didn’t like anyone in Jeno’s friendship group, but her eyes were warm like soft velvet and her brown hair fell into her face sweetly. He couldn’t help but smile back. 

As the class continued, Renjun lost himself, following the movements until they came naturally, the teacher’s voice a distant ringing in the back of his mind. He bent his knees and lifted his arms, pointed his toes over and over again. Everything was free, like it always was when he danced; first position, he brought his heels together, second position, he widened them apart, third position, he brought one foot in front of the other. He repeated it, first position, second position, third position. 

He stopped when he felt a gentle tap on his shoulder, jolting as he was broken out of his rhythm. 

“Have you done this before?”, the teacher asked. 

Renjun shook his head. “Not properly.” 

She hummed, casually adjusting the arm he’d outstretched and then walking away. 

After the class, he’d slipped his scruffy school uniform back on, and left the empty changing room. His bag was still upstairs in one of the science labs, left by the window so he could collect it easily before his next class. He picked it up but stopped, glancing out across the field below. 

He could see Jeno, with the rest of the soccer club, wearing the white sneakers his dad had bought him for his birthday last year. Jeno stopped to wipe his forehead with the sleeve of his shirt. He didn’t see Renjun, who shook his head and laughed affectionately as he reached for his bag. Stealing another glimpse, he saw that Jeno was closer now, sprinting skilfully as he blocked the ball, turned, and kicked it towards the opponents’ goal. Renjun felt the warm feelings of pride glow in his stomach. It rose in his throat and it caught there until he let it out in a small sigh. 

He glanced around the empty classroom, the chairs untucked, and the walls littered with faded posters plastered with planets and atoms. The pictures on the walls reinforced in his mind how insignificant he felt, that he was meant to be alone, that Jeno was too good for him and no one could want him if his own mother didn’t. He couldn’t imagine life without Jeno, and it terrified him that he might have to accept it. 

He diverted his attention to the zip of his bag as he undid it and stuffed the ballet clothes inside, pushing the thoughts to the back of his mind as he ran out of the classroom. 

\--

Walking home with Jeno the next day was normal, and the day after that, the next one too, but as the weeks slipped away, Jeno slipped further with them. Renjun felt distant, but stayed silent about it, he never was good at expressing himself. It hurt though. 

It was lunchtime. Renjun had been caught up talking to a teacher, stumbling out the doors as he looked for Jeno. He was there, on a bench across the field, all of his friends circling him as he laughed loudly. Jeno caught his eye, but Renjun kept walking past the benches until he stopped at an empty corner of the school grounds by a gate. He leant against it, kicking his feet into the ground, the dust clouding in the air before it settled. 

He looked up sharply though when he heard the sound of heavy footsteps. They stopped and for a moment all Renjun could hear was the breeze, but when the voice spoke it was soft and gentle. 

“Forgotten your lunch again?” Jeno leant against the gate too. 

“I’m not hungry.” Renjun glanced at Jeno. “Why are you here?” 

“What?” 

“You’ve got lots of friends Jeno, you don’t have to be mine just because you feel sorry for me.” Renjun pushed himself off the gate and folded his arms stubbornly. 

“That’s not why we’re friends”, Jeno frowned. “You can join you know?” 

“I’d only hold you back.” 

Jeno matched Renjun, pushing off the gate and sighing. “They aren’t that bad.” 

Jeno’s dark hair had fallen in his face and Renjun saw the cheekbones that had begun to define with age. He softened, “I’m sorry”, he breathed, slumping back. He eyed the specks of dirt that had caught on his shoes. “Things aren’t going so great with the ballet.” 

“Yeeun said you’re really good.” 

Renjun shrugged. “They’re all better than me, and people already think I’m different.” 

“No, they don’t.” 

“I’m sure your friends do”, Renjun gestured to the crowd in the distance. 

The silence stole the air around them, it was suffocating, Renjun breathing heavily as he played with the sleeves of his blazer. 

“Soccer try outs are next week”, Jeno tried. 

“Are you prepared?” 

“Not as much as I want to be.” 

“Good luck”, Renjun smiled apologetically. 

The sound of twigs crunching under heavy footsteps broke Renjun out of the safety between him and Jeno, head shooting up to search for the source of the noise. It was one of Jeno’s friends, a few feet away as he bounded through the field. 

“You coming?”, he directed at Jeno, soccer ball held under one arm. 

Jeno shoved his hands into the pockets of his blazer and stretched. “Yeah, one minute”, he mumbled. 

He looked at Renjun, the smaller wishing he wouldn’t say what he did. 

“I’ve got to go.” 

Renjun nodded silently. 

Jeno turned, but paused, facing him again. 

“We’re good, aren’t we?”, he asked hesitantly. 

Renjun smiled weakly. “Yeah, we’re good.” 

\--

The months passed, Renjun’s thirteenth birthday came and went, but he didn’t feel any different. It was April now, and spring shone through the windows of the classrooms, the hallways bright with the fresh light as he rushed through them to find Jeno. He’d been trying tirelessly to locate him all day with little luck, but he finally saw him by the lockers, surrounded as usual. Renjun stopped at the end of the hall, glancing at the tiny blue parcel with the card he’d taped messily to it. 

He’d saved up for the laces, ones with silver stars sewn into them. Looking up now though, his face dropped. Taking a deep breath and walking with feigned confidence, he caught Jeno’s attention as he was drawn to him. The other grinned, expression only faltering when he noticed the group around him glaring at Renjun and then back at him. 

“Renjun.” 

Renjun looked from Jeno to the others, and Yeeun whose brows were knitted together as she smiled sympathetically at him. 

“I just wanted to say,” Renjun held the parcel out towards Jeno and smiled, “Happy birthday.” Jeno’s face was silhouetted by the afternoon light but he could still see the anxious look woven into his features, his lips pressed together tightly. He hesitated before taking the package and stuffing it into his pocket. As he did, Renjun heard a sneer from behind him. 

“Thanks”, Jeno replied awkwardly. 

“Sure.” 

Renjun couldn’t speak, the words he wanted to say caught in his throat as he looked at Jeno’s blank expression. He turned on his heels, leaving without another word. 

Once he’d reached the end of the hallway he stopped, leaning against the wall and willing the dull ache in his chest to go away. 

“Thanks.” 

Renjun glanced over his shoulder. “What?”, he sniffed lightly. 

“For the present”, Jeno said quietly. 

“You haven’t opened it yet”, Renjun muttered through a forced laugh. 

“Do you want to come to mine later?”, Jeno tried but the hallways were silent still. “There’s cake”, he added. 

“Fine”, Renjun huffed, feeling himself melt as he smiled. 

For the rest of that day they were just Jeno and Renjun again, like they had always been. The walk to the bakery was mostly silent, the two stopping occasionally to look at the spring blossom that had bloomed on the trees beside the sidewalk. The air was warm, and Renjun inhaled the sweet aroma as he leant in closer, Jeno laughing at his actions. He didn’t mind though, it was the laugh he was used to, not the forced ones he always earned from Jeno at school. 

At the bakery, there was a cake that Jeno’s dad had made laid out on the glass counter, vanilla with swirls of white frosting. He was standing next to it proudly when the two teens stumbled through the entrance. Jeno had opened one of the drawers, Renjun next to him, and fumbled through the contents stuffed inside. He stopped as his hand hovered over a blue box. Renjun peered at it, grinning as Jeno shook it, the sparklers inside rattled and his mind wound back to last year when they’d been standing in the same place they were now on Renjun’s birthday. They laughed as Jeno slung them back into the drawer and pulled out a blunt knife from inside. 

When they’d gone upstairs, Jeno dug the parcel from Renjun out of his pocket, the two facing each other on the bed, Renjun glancing at him nervously. He undid the paper, the laces falling into his lap and he beamed, taking them into his hand and staring at the patterned stars. 

The next time Renjun looked out of the window after his ballet class, Jeno had been out on the field. He didn’t miss the flash of silver at his feet, the laces he’d tied into his sneakers. 

\--

The ballet class was smaller than it had been at the beginning of the year, people had other things to focus on now, like science and math and history, Renjun stayed though. 

The hours spent training by Jeno had paid off too, and he’d made it onto the team. On Monday’s when Jeno had soccer, Renjun had ballet and they’d meet afterwards in the changing rooms to walk home together. Sometimes Yeeun would join them. Renjun didn’t mind the occasions that she did, he found he quite liked her, and she’d only ever walk halfway with them before she disappeared into her house. Thursday’s were Renjun’s day though, when he’d stay in the gym until dusk crept through the windows, listening to the sound of his soft ballet shoes as his footsteps echoed in the emptiness. It was partly because he didn’t want to go home, and partly because there was something beautiful about it. Being able to dance, filling the entire room with the strength of his movement as he focused all his energy into perfecting the moves they’d spent hours going over in lunchtime classes. 

The first recital was at the end of spring, when the blossoms had started to fall from the branches of the trees with the promise of summer. He hadn’t told his mother about it, he doubted she would show up even if he had, but he’d told Jeno. 

As he looked out across the stage at the audience where parents and siblings had gathered to watch their children, he saw Jeno, watching him with a wide smile from the back of the hall, and the warmth of affection shot through him again as he stretched an arm out above his torso and presented a controlled leap. 

The night before the final recital of the year though, the two of them had sat beside the bank of the river, where the stargazer lilies clustered as they bloomed beside the edge of the water. It was unusually still, Renjun staring at one of the flowers that had found its own space, grown separate from the cluster, reaching up independently from the grass. 

“What’s wrong?”, he heard Jeno say. 

“I’m nervous.” 

“Nerves are good sometimes”, Jeno said as he shuffled in the grass. “They help you stay focused.” 

Renjun snapped out of his trance, facing Jeno and watching as the glow from the moon lit up his cheeks. “Everyone’s going to be watching.” 

“That’s the idea”, Jeno grinned, nudging Renjun’s shoulder lightly. 

Renjun hummed, still caught in a trance as he studied Jeno’s face, his gaze finally falling back to the lone flower by the edge of the water. 

“If you feel scared tomorrow.” Jeno poked his arm playfully. “You can look at me, just pretend it’s like all the other times, like no one else is there.” 

Renjun nodded, even then he always danced for Jeno. 

\--

Everything after that evening beside the river was a blur, the last-minute practises, Yeeun next to him stretching gently, the curtains drawn in the hall, the darkness of the room contrasted with the stark light centred to the middle of the stage. 

Renjun’s turn came, and the stage was lit for him. He walked slowly to the centre, mind blank as the audience came into view and the glare of the spotlight stung his eyes. He stretched one arm out, and it wavered in the air as he felt the nerves tangle in his stomach. Then he began, dancing to the rhythm as the music played from the stereo at the side of the stage. He closed his eyes, gracing the stage, one step forward followed by the curving of his arm, until he opened them again. 

He saw Jeno, and the world around him dissolved into nothing but his best friend. Jeno smiled and Renjun thought he could drink in the expression and be dizzied by it forever. He watched him as he stretched his arms out in front of him. Jeno’s smile transformed into a frown though as his eyes wavered, Renjun breaking out of his daydream. 

His step faltered and he stumbled, landing sloppily. He caught himself, not looking at Jeno anymore as he continued the routine he’d previously perfected. 

_He’d failed._

Nobody but Jeno had ever told him he was good enough, and now he’d messed up in front of him too. 

After the show, he traipsed out of the changing room, bag clutched against his uniform as he looked at the floor. He knew Jeno was waiting. The crowds had dispersed, and Renjun kept his head down as he approached the other. 

“What’s wrong?”, Jeno asked him gently. 

“I messed up”, Renjun mumbled. 

“It’s fine Renjun-“ 

“It’s not”, Renjun shot back, feeling the ache of tears as he let his guard slip. 

“It wasn’t noticeable.” 

“You’re just saying that.” 

“Nobody was perfect, you’re still learning, _you don’t have to be perfect.”_ Jeno was standing in front of him now. 

“The others didn’t make mistakes and they’re all learning”, Renjun protested. “I knew I should have practised more.” He slung his bag onto the concrete pavement, shoulders slumping. 

“Just calm down, it’s fine.” 

“It’s not fine. I’m not good at anything.” 

“Yes, you are”, Jeno tried again, reaching out to put a hand on Renjun’s shoulder but he flinched away. 

Renjun could feel one of the tears sliding down his cheek but he didn’t bother to wipe it away. Jeno was staring at him with wide eyes. “I’m not like you Jeno”, he spat, “I don’t have talent, _I don’t even have friends_ , you’re embarrassed of me too, I know you are.” His voice softened and he looked desperate. “I just want one thing”, he finished, finally wiping his eyes with the sleeve of his shirt as the anger dissolved. 

He felt Jeno reach forward, and this time he didn’t try to pull away from the touch. Hands settled on each of his shoulders, gripping them as he stared at Renjun. 

“You _were_ amazing. I wish you could understand how good you are.” 

Renjun trembled in the warmth of the summer evening, lip quivering as Jeno drew him into a soft hug. His arms hung weakly at his side as he was met by Jeno’s body heat. 

“How do you always make it okay?”, he murmured into Jeno’s shoulder. 

Jeno’s head came up, and Renjun was surprised to see the faint tears that had tracked down the other’s cheeks. 

“You’ve been so stressed out and I wasn’t there for you”, Jeno admitted. 

“It’s not your fault.” Renjun reached for his bag from the ground and swung it over his shoulder, smiling at Jeno as he held out his little finger. 

“Best friends?” 

Jeno reached out, locking the same finger with Renjun’s as they brought the pads of their thumbs together and pressed lightly. 

“Best friends.” 

\--

When they were thirteen, Jeno got hurt. 

The school year was drawing to a close. Renjun remembered it, how they’d changed together, and he’d turn left and Jeno would turn right, ballet and soccer. 

That day was different though. 

It was when Renjun pushed the door to the changing room open after practise that his heart dropped. 

The room was empty except the figure slumped on the bench. Jeno was staring at the floor. 

“Jeno?” 

The boy flinched, looking up at Renjun, soccer shirt still clinging to him with sneakers half untied around his ankles. His face was marked with tinges of purple below his eye that dripped into lighter shades on his cheekbone. Renjun’s stomach lurched. Jeno’s bottom lip was split at the corner with blood around it. He ditched his bag at the end of the bench and ran to Jeno. 

“Why are you bleeding?” 

“It doesn’t matter”, Jeno muttered, kicking his feet. The sound echoed off the walls of the tiny changing room. 

“It does, what happened?” He stepped closer to Jeno, standing above him. 

Jeno glared at the floor as he kicked his feet again. “They were saying stuff.” 

“Stuff?” 

“About you”, Jeno murmured. “I didn’t like it.” 

“Your friends?” 

Jeno nodded. 

“And they hit you?” 

“I hit them first”, Jeno laughed weakly, smiling from underneath the messy hair stuck to his forehead. 

“You can’t just go around hitting people”, Renjun sighed, walking to the sink in the corner of the room and pulling out a stack of tissues from the dispenser above it. He ran them under the water and brought them back to the bench, sitting beside Jeno and wiping one across the corner of his mouth. “You really did that for me?” 

Jeno nodded, not looking Renjun in the eyes. He smoothed the tissue over Jeno’s cut again as fresh blood appeared. He wiped it away, moving to a graze on his chin and watching as Jeno’s eyes snapped shut and he winced loudly. 

“Hold still”, Renjun laughed, taking Jeno’s chin between his fingers and tilting it up to the dim light fixed to the ceiling. Jeno’s face was pale, drained of its usual colour as the bruises mixed with his complexion. He brushed the strands of dark hair off the other’s forehead, the skin still glistening with sweat. “Why did you do that?”, he asked as he pressed the tissue hard against one of the cuts. 

“You’re my best friend”, Jeno answered shortly. 

“What were they saying?” 

Jeno kept his eyes fixed on him, but he didn’t speak. 

“It’s because of the ballet.” Renjun’s hands dropped from Jeno’s jaw, falling into his lap. He let them rest there defeatedly. “You got hurt because of it.” Renjun clenched his fist angrily, the tissue scrunching inside his palm. “I should just quit.” 

“No”, Jeno cut in sharply. “You’re not quitting”, he continued, voice softer this time. “You can’t just let go of a dream, it’s not as easy as that.” 

Renjun smiled at him through the flickering light in the room. The memory had stuck with him forever, that day. It felt like a turning point, no going back. He looked past the cuts and the bruises on Jeno’s face, at his eyes that glistened as he spoke. 

At thirteen, Renjun promised Jeno he’d never quit. 

\--

Renjun’s fourteenth birthday was on a Saturday that year. He hated birthdays at weekends because he had nothing to distract him. 

He was in his room when he heard his mother call him. He appeared in the doorway, peering down the stairs to where she stood by the kitchen table. Renjun squinted as the glare from the candles hit his eyes. He looked at the cake she clutched on a tray, the packet still left discarded on the table top. There was a card next to it, with his name scribbled messily across the envelope. 

“Happy birthday. I got you a cake”, she beamed and took one step. Renjun tried to smile but he couldn’t ignore the way her hands shook. She stumbled once, the cake clattering against the table as she set it down clumsily. 

The candle wax dripped off the edge of the candles and Renjun blew them out quickly, watching the tiny wisps of smoke disappear while his mother held onto a chair to steady herself. Renjun watched her sadly. 

“Open the card”, she said, swiping it off the surface and passing it to him. 

Renjun tore the paper, a couple of notes falling into his palm as he read. ‘Happy birthday Renjun’ was written carelessly on the top of it. 

“Thanks mom”, he grimaced and set it back on the table. 

She stepped to him and placed her hands on his face, holding it between them. “I can’t believe my baby is fourteen today”, she cooed is a sugary voice and Renjun could smell the alcohol on her breath. 

“Have you been drinking?” 

She let go, frowning at him. 

“Let’s enjoy your birthday”, she tried, taking the cake off the table, and grabbing a knife out the draw. She cut one slice, placing it on a plate and holding it out. “It’s chocolate” she beamed, her words slurring together. 

“Where’s the bottle?” Renjun scanned the room until his eyes landed on the half empty bottle of vodka behind the kettle. “How much have you had?” 

Renjun looked from his mother, to the bottle and then to the cake on the plate in front of him. He loved cake, but suddenly looking at it made the bile rise in his throat. 

“You said you’d stop”, he whispered. 

“It’s not that easy”, his mother snapped back. 

“You have to stop, please”, Renjun begged quietly. 

“I got you cake.” His mother pushed the plate forward desperately. “You like cake.” 

“I’m really not hungry.” He pushed the plate away. 

Renjun watched his mother take it frantically and put the plate back onto the tray. 

“Is it okay if I go out?”, Renjun asked bluntly. 

His mother opened her mouth, like she was going to protest, or shout, but her shoulders sunk, and she exhaled deeply. 

“Of course,” she relented, holding up the cake unsteadily. “I’ll save this for later.” 

Leaving the house was a relief for Renjun, he didn’t know where he was going and the air felt cold against his cheeks as he let himself cry, frustrated tears falling. He shivered as the evening set in. As he walked through the darkness, he couldn’t help but stare at the bright lights, the ones from the bakery the other side of the street. He hadn’t planned any of this, and as he saw Jeno through the window, laughing with his dad as they cleared up, he was tempted to go home. 

Instead he crossed the street, wiping away the last of his tears. 

Jeno and his dad both stopped when they saw Renjun standing shivering in the doorway, Jeno putting the tray of pastries he grasped back down on the counter. 

“Dad, I’m going upstairs for a bit”, he said shortly. 

Renjun didn’t say anything as Jeno put an arm around his shoulder, guiding them through the warmth of the bakery and to the store room that led upstairs. They sat on Jeno’s bed, Renjun still dazed as the other watched him. 

He crumbled then. “It’s my birthday.” 

Jeno pulled Renjun into an embrace. “I know it’s your birthday”, he said, but the sound was muffled by Renjun’s t-shirt as Jeno’s head rested in the crook of his neck. Jeno let go, reaching beside his bed and taking something out. 

“I was going to give it to you at school tomorrow.” He held out a package with gold ribbon tied around it. 

“Thanks”, Renjun sniffed, taking it into his lap and studying it carefully before he tore away the paper. 

Inside it was a grey sweater, folded neatly. Renjun lifted it out, the fabric soft in his hands as he flipped it over and smiled. 

“Because you always take mine”, Jeno laughed. 

Renjun slipped it over his head shyly, enveloped by the warmth as the long sleeves covered his hands. “Thank you”, he grinned. 

They watched a movie after that, Renjun still wearing the sweater as they stood in the kitchen making popcorn. Jeno had taken a box out from the cupboard and Renjun stood at the microwave, the small brown bag spinning inside it, his chin resting in the palms of his hands as he listened to the kernels explode. It took his mind off things, felt safe and comforting, like he belonged. 

Jeno chose the movie, and they laid on his bed together, Jeno’s new laptop between them as the scenes blared on the screen. They were close, Renjun nestled into Jeno’s shoulder, letting his head rest there innocently. In Jeno’s arms he could pretend he was protected, that someone cared about him enough to shield him from everything that was bad. 

Halfway through, Jeno tapped a key and the movie stopped. 

“Do you think she’s pretty?”, he asked, pointing at the actress on the screen. 

“Yeah”, Renjun lied. 

He didn’t know what he found pretty, it wasn’t really something he’d ever thought about before, he didn’t have time to think now, Jeno agreeing softly and tapping the same key. The movie continued, overcoming the silence in the room as Renjun kept his eyes fixed on it. 

As the titles rolled across the screen Renjun looked up at Jeno, the other turning at the same time. Renjun wanted to smile at the sight of his dark eyes, hazy and warm, but he was too fixated by them to do anything. 

He didn’t realise he’d been staring, until Jeno broke the gaze, reaching between them for the laptop and snapping it shut. The sound resonated until it was just silence again and Renjun lay his head down on the pillow. Jeno did the same before Renjun spoke again. 

“Do you still think about your mom?” 

“All the time”, Jeno whispered, face close to Renjun’s as they fit together on the space of the tiny bed. 

“Did she love you?” 

“Of course she loved me.” 

“How did you know?”, Renjun replied. 

He could see Jeno pause to think. “She looked after me”, a smile played across his lips as he spoke. “She was always there when I needed her, she listened to me talk about anything”, his smiled deepened, “and she always made it seem like it was the most interesting thing she’d ever heard.” 

“Is that what love is?”, Renjun asked quietly. 

“I think there’s different sorts of love”, Jeno answered. 

“Yeah, I guess.” Renjun sat up, pulling the sweater Jeno had given him tighter across his body. 

Walking back home that night, Renjun decided he’d never felt love before, and therefore, would never understand it. 

\--

The next morning when he’d dressed into his uniform, he came down the stairs. There was a box beside his schoolbag with a note taped to it. Renjun peered inside it at the lunch his mother had left out for him, ripping the sticky note off the top and staring at the writing. 

_I’m sorry_

Renjun crumpled the note and shoved it into his blazer pocket, throwing the box into his bag. 

He didn’t think his mother knew the meaning of the word, if she did things would be different. There were problems that he couldn’t fix right now, things he couldn’t change, but he had his constant, he had Jeno. 

He slammed the door shut, met with the crisp air of the morning, and walked along the concrete pavement. 

At thirteen, Renjun had promised Jeno he wouldn’t quit, and at fourteen, he’d promised himself the same thing. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay with this chapter but it was pretty long and I was having some extreme writer's block! Anyway here is Renjun's back story and a little bit more of noren growing up together. Also Yeeun will be the purest soul in this is fic I love her <3 Something big will happen in the next chapter too hehe! ~ Elle  
> Anyway I'd love to hear your thoughts below+ my curious cat is linked too!  
> twitter: renjunfairydust  
> [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.qa/renjunfairydust)


	3. Chapter 3

“I’m _never_ going to pass this test.” 

The sound of Renjun’s voice broke Jeno out of his trance, eyes wandering from the grassy field that had caught the glare of the morning sun, to the fourteen-year-old under the shade of the tree above them. Renjun lay on his stomach, propped up on his elbows and studying a tattered Chemistry textbook resting in the grass. Beside him, there was a plastic lunch box, and Jeno was relieved each time the other drew the contents out with the chopsticks leant at its side, then buried his head further into the book. 

Jeno smiled as Renjun stopped to glance at him, soon diverting his stare back to the writing on the page. 

It was _nice_ , he thought, to spend time with Renjun. Everything had been so, _intense_ this year; exams, studying, and soccer training - it was easy to take the friendship for granted. 

“Which part don’t you understand?”, Jeno asked, back arching off the tree he was slumped against. 

“All of it”, Renjun groaned, headbutting the pages and letting his forehead press onto them, a mess of chestnut hair following. 

Jeno laughed, reaching for the book, and pulling it out from underneath Renjun’s head. It slid easily and Renjun was startled as his face hit the grass. He raised his head and scowled, Jeno already flicking through the pages. 

“We did this last semester”, he stated, holding the textbook up by its spine. “You just need to put a two there to balance the equation.” 

Renjun nodded and Jeno set the textbook back down next to him. From here he could see the school building, its huge metal doors reflecting the light from the sun. He squinted, eyes narrowing when he focused on Renjun, who was still glaring at the equation meticulously. 

“When’s the test?” 

“Next week”, Renjun answered. 

Jeno slunk back against the tree and folded his arms. “You’ve got loads of time to study then.” 

“I guess.” Renjun slammed the textbook shut and sat up, stretching, and threw it into his bag. “We’d better head to class.” 

“Yeah.” Jeno followed, slinging his bag over his shoulder but pausing. “Do you want to stay at mine tonight?” 

It was a simple question, one that Jeno had been meaning to ask for months now, but it made Renjun freeze. 

“Why?”, he shot. 

Jeno shrugged. “I can help you with those equations if you want.” He gestured to the bag resting on Renjun’s shoulder and grinned. “My dad said it would be okay if you wanted to stay over one night.” 

“Don’t you have soccer practise later?” 

“We haven’t got a game this week.” Jeno pushed off the ground, using the tree trunk to steady himself as he pressed his palm flat onto it. “Coach gave us some time off.” 

“But it’s Saturday tomorrow, you have to help your dad in the bakery.” 

“It’ll be alright if I’m a few hours late”, Jeno laughed, cocking an eyebrow. “It’s okay if you don’t want to.” 

“I do”, Renjun insisted sharply, voice wavering. “I need to ask my mom though.” 

Renjun’s mother. Jeno had still only seen her once, that time by the school gates all those years ago. 

He didn’t understand, he knew there was something, otherwise there wouldn’t have been the secrets. He didn’t want to pry, but he was struck then with an unnerving feeling that Renjun knew everything about his family, yet he knew nothing about Renjun’s. 

He didn’t know then, the weight of the secrets that Renjun bore. 

\--

The front of Renjun’s house hadn’t changed much. 

It had been a long time since he’d been faced by the grey walls and overgrown pathway that led to the entrance, so long that Jeno had almost forgotten it. In the stark daylight, the house was even colder, with washed out paintwork and damp window frames. 

Renjun tensed as they stood at the gateway. He’d already been silent on the walk from school that day, but now he exhaled shakily, pushing the gate open and holding it out for Jeno. 

As they stepped to the door, Renjun clenched his fist once, tensed it and then relaxed the hand, digging into his pocket and pulling out a silvery key. He moved it into the lock but paused. 

“It’s a mess”, he mumbled, taking the key out from the lock. Stepping into the hallway, he turned to Jeno who was still standing dazed outside. “Come on then”, he waved, not looking Jeno in the eye. 

Renjun paced ahead through to the kitchen, and Jeno traipsed behind, staring at the plastered walls and the piles of laundry at the bottom of the stairs, the stack of unopened letters on the carpet too. He walked to the doorway of the kitchen, where he could see Renjun. 

The chaos hadn’t missed that room either, Jeno’s eyes catching on four dirty plates next to the sink and the cupboard door that rested open above it. There was a half-drunk bottle of milk left out on the side, the red cap thrown next to it. Jeno watched as Renjun nudged past him, the two bumping shoulders as he took the bottle and sniffed the contents. He grimaced, face scrunching in disgust and poured the liquid down the sink, slamming the bottle into the trash. 

Jeno stayed quiet, stunned at the disorder, but Renjun had already shuffled through to the lounge, stopping in the doorway. 

“Mom?”, he called into the room softly, voice laced with an unnerved hesitance. 

It was greeted by a silence so severe that Jeno shivered, stepping to stand next to Renjun and listening to the other’s shaky breathing. 

“Mom?”, Renjun tried again, louder this time, but there was still no response. Jeno peered around the room at the empty couch Renjun was fixed on, cushions tossed messily across it. “I don’t think she’s here.” 

“Shall we wait for her?” 

“No”, Renjun replied through gritted teeth. “It’ll be fine.” 

“But you said you needed to ask her.” 

“It’s fine”, Renjun repeated, firmly this time. He went back to the kitchen, swiping a pad of paper and a pen from the counter and scribbling a few words on it. The note was stuck to the door of one of the cupboards. “I’ll get my stuff”, he rushed and ran out of the room. 

Jeno followed him upstairs. Renjun’s bedroom was bare, with curtains that were shut closed. There was a wooden desk beneath them and a neatly made bed the other side. He sat down tentatively, not missing the bag stuffed underneath it. It was the same bag Renjun always carried around at school, the one with his ballet clothes in. The straps hung untidily as they spilled out onto the carpet. Renjun pulled open a drawer and stuffed a handful of clothing into a backpack he held open, zipping it shut hastily. 

The walk to Jeno’s was awkward, Renjun’s eyes glued to the ground as he swung his bag in time with his small steps. Jeno looked down too, at Renjun’s white sneakers, suddenly reminded of the red ones he had grown out of, the ones that were gone yet remained burnt into his memory as a symbol of their friendship. The ten-year-old with the wide smile had been replaced by worried eyes and nervous glances. Renjun kicked his feet along the paving stones that led to the bakery. 

The sound of the bell ringing above their heads earned them a warm smile from Jeno’s dad who was stood behind the glass counter. 

“Hello you two.” 

“Hi dad”, Jeno said. 

“Hello Mr Lee”, Renjun mumbled, his gaze still on the wooden flooring. 

“Are you okay Renjun?” Jeno saw his dad frown. 

Renjun nodded quickly before Jeno grabbed the end of his shirt sleeve, pulling him towards the back of the bakery and upstairs to his bedroom. Renjun sat on the bed quietly, placing his backpack on the floor. 

“You’re not happy.” 

Renjun shrugged, hands restless in his lap, palms flattened onto his legs. 

“Are you worried about your mom?” 

Renjun shook his head weakly. 

“Do you know where she is?” 

“No”, Renjun shook his head again. “I’m used to it.” 

The words shattered, shifting to a realisation that dizzied Jeno. He walked slowly to the edge of the bed, feeling the mattress dip beneath him as he sat there. 

“All those times,” Jeno sighed, “you didn’t _forget_ your lunches, did you?” 

“She forgot to go shopping”, Renjun whispered, looking into his lap, “ because of the bottles.” 

“Bottles?” 

Renjun squeezed his eyes shut. “The alcohol”, he stated bluntly. “Then she runs out of money and she can’t have any and everything’s okay, for a while. And then it’s not, because she goes out, and she brings people home, then goes out again.” His voice cracked. “And it doesn’t stop.” 

“Has it always been like that?” 

“It was better when we lived with my aunt, but here everything got worse.” Renjun clenched his fists again, finally letting them rest in his lap as he bit the corner of his lip. 

Jeno searched for the words he knew he would never find, and in the next second he had moved, gently reaching over, and covering the top of Renjun’s hand with his own. The skin was warm, radiating heat onto Jeno’s cooler palm. He didn’t know what he was meant to do with it once he’d taken it, so he simply held it. 

Then the other turned his hand over, slowly, fitting it perfectly against Jeno’s, palm to palm as he intertwined their fingers and closed them around his softly. 

That’s how the minutes passed, the heaviness of Renjun’s breath the only noise in the room. 

He smiled pitifully up at Jeno, speaking in a choked whisper. “Please don’t tell anyone.” 

“But Renjun-“ 

“ _Please Jeno_ , I don’t want them to know.” He let go of Jeno’s hand, folding his arms as it became silent. 

“You know you can stay here anytime you want to, my dad won’t mind”, Jeno said. “Why didn’t you tell me?” 

“Nobody ever wants to listen.” 

“I’ll listen.” 

Half an hour later, Jeno’s dad brought them both hot chocolate. Jeno held the faded cup in his hand numbly, running a thumb over the chips that tainted the handle. Renjun clasped his, leaning against the headboard of Jeno’s bed and took small sips at intervals, staring at the layer of cream that had sunk into the chocolate. The spare mattress was laid out flat below them across the floor. 

Evening came, and he found himself sitting by the window, looking out at the stars that were dotted in the darkened sky. He still did it often, sat beside the panes of glass and thought about his mother, it was how he found his comfort. He wanted the stars to help him clear his mind, to let him know what he should do, how he could help his best friend, but they only shone. It used to bring him comfort, but now he needed more than just that. 

The springs of his bed clattered, and feet padded softly, Jeno turning to see Renjun sitting beside him, looking out at the same sky. Renjun crossed his legs and smiled at Jeno. 

“What are you doing?”, he asked quietly. 

“Thinking.” Jeno turned back to the stars. 

His breath caught in his throat when he felt Renjun’s hand reach for his, a mimicking of his actions earlier as their fingers laced together again. He tensed, but Renjun seemed casual, still fixed on the starry sky through the window. Jeno didn’t resist it, palm resting against Renjun’s as he too, faced the sky. Maybe Renjun knew what he was thinking about, maybe he didn’t, but none of that mattered, he found comfort in the new sensation. Something about sharing the view with Renjun felt intimate as they sat silently, hands still joined, a complete constant as time seemed to still. 

After that, when time had found its place in their world again, Jeno still recalled how they’d laid across the bed together, Renjun closest to the wall and Jeno opposite. They talked idly, murmured as the late night caught up with them. 

Renjun had been the first to close his eyes, the quiet taking over the room as his breaths became steady and consistent. Jeno had laughed fondly, not wanting to rouse the other, and instead, slid the blanket spread across his legs up to his shoulders. His cheek was pressed onto the pillow, face lit by the moonlight, and lips parted. The lines of worry had been smoothed out by the peace of sleep. 

All Jeno wanted was for Renjun to be safe, those feelings surged through him then and he paused. Dismissing it, he dropped the blanket across Renjun, and turned onto his side to face away. 

He stared at the empty mattress unused on the floor. 

\--

In the morning, Jeno walked with Renjun back to his house, up the hill to the grey doors. Renjun was clutching his bag to his chest, the straps clinging to his arms, and the sun hung in the spring sky. It radiated a hue so gentle between the clouds that it lit the path in front of them with promised warmth. 

The door to Renjun’s house appeared quicker than Jeno wanted it to, the two standing at the steps as Renjun grabbed the same silver key he’d pulled out yesterday. He was about to slot it into the lock when they both jumped, the door flying open, Renjun’s mother hunched in the entrance. Her appearance was worn, hair tied but tangled, with eyes red and tired. 

She looked at Renjun frantically but seemed to realise he was there. “Where have you been?”, she said weakly. 

“You weren’t here, I was with Jeno”, Renjun deflected quietly. 

“I was worried about you”, she rushed. 

His mother scanned across, noticing Jeno for the first time. She dismissed him, tapping Renjun’s shoulder lightly and gesturing him inside. Renjun followed without looking back at Jeno, his mother slamming the door shut. 

They didn’t go to Renjun’s house anymore after that day. 

\--

Ever since the fight when he was thirteen, Jeno’s friends didn’t talk about Renjun, they didn’t acknowledge that he existed. 

Jeno noticed though, he noticed how Renjun avoided them. 

For his fifteenth birthday, Jeno’s dad gifted him a new soccer kit, which he wore every practice, today too, the air warm on the heat of the pitch. He studied his sneakers in the softened grass, they’d changed since last year, but the laces had stayed the same and the silver stars were still stitched into them. 

Soccer was more intense now and the team was progressing through the school leagues that had led them to the finals for the season that day. 

He glanced up from the pitch and saw Yeeun on the benches. She caught his attention, waving excitedly and beaming at him, hair billowing as the wind tousled it. He smiled at her brightly, then became distracted by the lone figure on the other side of the stands. The smile still hung on his face as his eyes strayed to Renjun who sat alone on the bleachers, hands clasped together anxiously. 

He wasn’t watching Jeno though. 

_He was staring at Yeeun._

Jeno tried to catch his eye, and when Renjun noticed, he looked away from her quickly, focussing his attention on Jeno and smiling nervously. 

Jeno smiled back, unsure why Renjun had been looking at her. 

_He’d never looked at Yeeun like that before._

He felt something slam into his shoulder, the ball in front of him and the sting of impact that burnt across his skin. Before he could lose it, he turned, running with it, and guided the ball towards the goal post, kicking it at one of his team, who caught it with his feet easily. 

They won, three goals to two, and when the whistle had been blown, spectators flooded onto the pitch as the team gathered together. 

Still, he searched for Renjun through the crowd. He couldn’t see him, distracted as one of his friends grabbed him by the shoulders and pulled him in towards where they’d congregated. He watched Yeeun spring from her seat, bouncing onto the grass and moving between their friends, embracing them one by one. 

She ran towards Jeno, throwing her arms around his neck and he stumbled backwards slightly. 

“Well done”, she exclaimed. 

Jeno looked up, across the pitch to the figure with his hands shoved in his pockets already walking towards the exit. He knew immediately from the mess of brown hair who it was and as the arms around him loosened, he found himself aching to find Renjun. He was caught though, a friend passing him and glancing quickly from Yeeun to Jeno. He slung an arm around Jeno’s shoulder. 

“I thought you’d lost it for us when you dropped that pass”, the boy laughed. “Nice recovery though.” 

Jeno played along, frowning, “I had it under control the whole time”, he bluffed, earning a second loud laugh from the boy. “That was a great goal.” He scanned the spot where Renjun had been, now empty as the crowds on the pitch thinned. 

He sighed and turned back, Yeeun already bounding off with a group of her own friends. 

“I’ll be back in a second”, he said, wriggling out of the grasp, the boy grinning first at him and then at the gates Yeeun was passing through. 

He ran through the gates though, across the school grounds, feeling the sting of the concrete underneath his pounding footsteps. 

“Renjun”, Jeno called, the other stopping abruptly. 

Jeno sniffed, wiping the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand and running towards him. Renjun looked at him for a moment before he broke into a small laugh when he glanced down at Jeno’s mud covered legs. 

“Thanks for coming.” 

“It’s okay”, Renjun smiled, removing his hands from his pockets. “You did well, and you won”, he added. 

“Yeah”, Jeno grinned. “Are you going home?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Oh.” Jeno felt his smile drop. “Okay.” 

“Goodnight then”, Renjun rushed. 

“Goodnight.” 

Jeno walked back to the changing rooms alone. 

\--

Jeno never expected to say yes to Yeeun. 

Nothing was different though, to him. The end of that school year had come around and she’d waited by the lockers after class for him with her books tucked neatly under her arm, wearing her usual smile. 

He knew about the end of year prom, but he hadn’t paid it much attention before that day, the day that she’d asked him. It had been innocent, a casual question, and he knew there had been expectations, he knew that people talked. Although _he’d_ never expected to say yes, everyone else thought that he would. That’s probably why he did it, there was never any question of him not saying yes. So, when she’d put forward the question to him, it came naturally, like a second instinct ingrained into him. He didn’t think about it much after that. Yeeun was his friend and they were going together. 

It only became complicated when it came up in conversation with Renjun. 

It was quiet by the bank of the river that Saturday in summer. They sat together, side by side with the water flowing noisily. Jeno inspected the watch on his wrist, sighing as he saw the time. 

“The prom’s tonight”, he thought aloud. 

“Is it?”, Renjun answered dismissively. “Oh yeah.” He rested his chin on his knee and gazed out at the water again. 

“Are you going?” 

Renjun sighed through his teeth. “No way, I don’t dance.” 

“We both know that’s a lie”, Jeno laughed. 

“Are you?” 

“Yeeun asked me”, Jeno replied, trying not to think about the way Renjun had looked at her, but the other stiffened and lowered his hands from his knees. 

“And you said?” 

“I said yes, because she asked me.” 

“Right.” Renjun nodded. 

“Did anyone ask you?” 

“No Jeno, no one asked me”, Renjun shot back, sitting up straight. His lips pressed into a thin line before he spoke again. “Yeeun’s nice, I’m sure you’ll have a good time.” 

Jeno hummed unconvincingly, leaning back awkwardly and sighing. 

“I don’t care who you’re going with”, Renjun snapped suddenly. “I’m just not going.” 

Jeno peered at Renjun, who had taken to pulling a few strands of grass up from the ground, pinching one piece between his index finger and thumb and looking at it blankly before flinging it. 

“How’s the ballet?”, Jeno questioned, trying to coax Renjun out of his silence. 

“It’s okay.” 

“At least you did well in those tests too.” 

“Yeah.” 

Renjun balled his fists, exhaling. 

“Look”, Jeno tried softly. “It doesn’t matter that no one asked you, it’ll probably be terrible anyway, it’s not a big deal.” 

He saw Renjun wince visibly, head shooting up as he regarded Jeno finally. Jeno tried to smile warmly but he was met with an icy stare as Renjun’s face flashed with dismay, seconds dragging as the two watched each other. 

Renjun shook his head and scrambled to his feet, his eyes glassy. “I’m going home.” 

He ran from the bank before Jeno could stop him. 

Jeno arrived at Yeeun’s house at seven exactly, wearing the suit he’d snatched from the back of his closet. It was tight, and the scratchy fabric of the shirt irritated his skin. He knocked on the large door and she answered, appearing in a short silver dress. She looked pretty, her hair straightened and earrings that matched the pale pink lip gloss she’d applied. She was beautiful, when they left her house, when they walked through the entrance of the hall across town that had been decorated with balloons and hanging banners, but he thought about Renjun the whole time, he couldn’t help it. 

He didn’t remember much more about that evening, not until the dance was over. 

It was already dark by the time he left, alone and shivering from the cold air. It hadn’t been long until he found himself passing Renjun’s house, grey walls lit by a dull street light. He thought about him, stopping by the gate as the street light glared in his eyes. 

That’s when he heard the small sniff, and his gaze darted downwards. 

Renjun was crouched on the doorstep, his head buried in his hands and elbows resting on his knees. His thin legs were hugged against his chest and the grey sweater he’d bought him last year was pulled over them to shield him from the chill of the evening. Jeno was sure that he hadn’t seen him, head still resting in his palms, as he opened the gate slowly. 

It creaked and Renjun tensed. 

Jeno sat on the concrete step, watching the other shiver. Reaching over, he took Renjun’s wrist gently. 

He raised his head then, looking at Jeno with wide eyes, vulnerable. There were tear tracks smearing his cheeks, that glistened in the moonlight. His eyelashes swept across his skin, fluttering as he blinked. 

“She’s not here tonight”, Renjun said finally in a pitiful whisper. 

“What?” 

“I can’t get in, it’s locked. I didn’t think she’d go out today, I left my keys inside and now it’s locked”, Renjun rambled frantically. 

It was silent again, Renjun’s wrist limp in Jeno’s grasp as he pulled him to his feet. 

“Come on, you can stay at my house tonight.” 

“Where’s Yeeun?”, Renjun asked flatly. 

“She went home.” 

“You let her go home on her own?” The alarm was evident in his tone, “is she okay?” 

“She left with her friends, she wanted to go home.” Jeno remembered the frown painted on her face as she had sighed at the end of the dance. 

“Oh”, Renjun said, voice blank. “I can’t get any of my stuff”, he continued, glancing behind him at the locked door. 

“It’s fine, you can borrow mine.” 

Renjun shook his head though. “I’ll just wait for her to come home.” He looked at Jeno, his eyes clouded by fear. 

Something in that expression told Jeno that Renjun’s mother was not coming home that night. He looked at Jeno again, and he softened, relaxing and leaving his wrist completely lifeless in Jeno’s hand. 

“Okay”, he whispered. 

\--

Jeno put one foot into the leg of his pyjamas and scanned his empty bedroom, the spare mattress they kept in the attic already out on the floor next to his bed. Renjun had gone to the bathroom across the landing, clutching the light blue pyjamas that Jeno had cast in his direction after rummaging in one of his drawers. 

He’d returned a few minutes later, the clothing hanging loosely off him and set himself down on the mattress, Jeno throwing his own bedsheets over himself. 

He’d tried his best to sleep, shutting his eyes and consuming himself with the darkness that the action brought, but every time he did, his thoughts plagued him. He didn’t understand, and as he rolled over restlessly, he peered at Renjun, the street light pouring through the windows onto him. His brow was furrowed, and he remained perfectly still, eyes open dully as his chest rose and fell. 

“Can’t sleep?”, Jeno groaned and raised himself clumsily onto his elbows. 

“Yeah.” Renjun’s arms were still tucked underneath his head. 

“Me neither.” 

Renjun sat up then, pulling the covers with him and wrapping them around his torso. “Did you have a good time tonight?” 

“It was okay”, Jeno replied honestly, sitting so that his legs dangled off the edge of the bed. 

“I think Yeeun likes you.” 

“I like her too, she’s my friend”, Jeno said. 

Renjun shook his head and looked up at him. “Not like that Jeno.” 

Jeno hummed, sliding off the bed so that he sat on the floor, back resting against the frame. Renjun watched him drag the sheet down with him, draping it carefully around his shoulders. “Where’s your mom?” 

“I don’t know.” Renjun’s eyes were frozen over, robbing them of their usual warmth and Jeno could see him trembling, grip on the sheets tightening as he tried to control it. 

Jeno looked at Renjun, his eyes dropping to the carpet from time to time. Then he turned, fumbling under the bed before taking out an object. It was a little dusty, but he placed it in his lap, beckoning Renjun over with his hand. He shuffled forward on his knees, sitting beside Jeno, who bunched the bedsheet in his hand and wrapped it around both of them. He lifted it, seeing the material float down gently so that it engulfed them in its safety, the walls of Jeno’s room obscured by the fabric. 

Their backs were pressed against the frame of the bed, Renjun pulling his knees to his chest and holding them protectively. Jeno glanced at the box in his lap, the one his dad had gifted him, _the stars_. 

He flicked the switch on, and they appeared, just as they used to, except this time they were close, lit up on the bedsheets in galaxies of colour. 

“I know you have dancing, and ballet.” Jeno saw the stars again, staring at the different colours morphing across the cotton. “But this is how I used to forget everything.” 

Renjun peered at the stars, pressing his palms flat against the sheet, it wavered as they were projected onto the back of his hands. Jeno was reminded of everything then, the way he used to climb under the sheets when the pain of being without his mother overwhelmed him, how he’d create his own world there, one without worries. 

He was sharing it with Renjun now, giving even more of himself to him. 

“I used to pretend I was somewhere else, it was my own little universe”, he continued, laughing softly at his own childish speech. “Now it can be _our_ universe, you don’t have to think about anything else.” 

Renjun smiled, watching as the stars lit the whole space underneath the sheets, the hot air from their breath trapped within their cocoon. 

“They don’t like it when I dance, Jeno”, Renjun whispered, voice lowering as he paused. “Only you do.” 

The statement made no sense to Jeno at the time, Renjun rarely made sense to him, but he nodded all the same. He turned, Renjun already staring at him with eyes that glowed with the colourful stars that seemed to settle inside his irises in constellations. Jeno was so caught up in them that he hardly noticed Renjun reach forward, pulling the box out of his lap. He wasn’t looking at the stars anymore, Renjun too close for him to notice them. Jeno let his fingers slip off it easily, hearing the sound of the switch being flicked, and then registering the darkness that had stolen his surroundings. 

_Darkness_ , everywhere Jeno looked, only the silhouette of Renjun’s face visible in between the void. His senses were heightened like this, and he felt Renjun’s breath ghost on his cheek, the other close. 

Then Renjun moved, his lips pressing gently onto Jeno’s as he found them in the shadows. The touch was softer than the wing of a butterfly. Jeno gasped, greeted by the warmth, unable to move in the silence of the room. He was aware of Renjun’s heartbeat, feeling the other’s pulse in the tender brush of lips against his own. 

Jeno’s mind flashed to earlier that evening, how Yeeun had put her head on his shoulder, how he’d stiffened. 

Renjun didn’t linger, the warmth gone when he pulled away, but Jeno was sure the moment was real when Renjun’s nose brushed against his as he leant backwards. 

Looking back on it, Jeno would barely call it a kiss. It was clumsy and innocent, nothing more than a rush of entangled emotion. He didn’t know how to feel, the kiss meant that nothing made sense anymore, it wasn’t straightforward. _It never was again._

It was their own universe, the kiss felt like a secret they had to keep, and Jeno carried it. He knew Renjun had no one to tell either. 

Only the two of them knew what happened that night in summer on the floor of Jeno’s bedroom. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yay noren first kiss - and so begins the start of a long journey for renjun and jeno ~  
> I really appreciate the kudos and love hearing your thoughts and comments they mean the world to me!! Thank you for reading heh!! ~ elle <33  
> twitter: renjunfairydust  
> [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.qa/renjunfairydust)


	4. Chapter 4

Renjun didn’t know why he had done it. 

The sun slipped through the curtains of his bedroom, he felt its warmth as he tugged the bedsheets from his face and sat up. 

That day was one where he found himself thinking about it, six months ago in summer. 

He ambled to his closet and snatched his uniform from a hanger inside. 

On some days, the thoughts made him nauseous, until it was as though he were suffocating. Those were the times he felt like he couldn’t look at Jeno. He remembered the scene perfectly, how it had played out after the kiss, that night on the floor. 

“I’m sorry”, Renjun had whispered, slumping against the bed frame and gripping his hands together – a nervous habit. He was thankful for the darkness, because it meant Jeno couldn’t see the flush in his cheeks and the heat that had risen to the surface of his burning skin. 

“It’s okay”, Jeno had replied blankly. 

Whilst he was thankful for the darkness, he also hated it. Jeno was an entity, obscured by the shadows that hid him, and it had haunted Renjun. He never caught the response, there were no telling signs of any kind of emotion. He guessed what Jeno had been thinking though, and each time he considered it, he shivered violently. 

Renjun knew what he’d been feeling though, the overwhelming tug of want. He was always learning about the world, and he’d gauged what was expected, that he should be attracted to girls. It hadn’t happened yet, he waited but there was nothing. 

Jeno had told him once that there were different types of love, and he’d thought it made no sense until now. Jeno cared about him, and he smiled, he was all those things to him and more. Still, Renjun swore he didn’t understand the word and that he never would. He was sure that friendship wasn’t love, love was complex, and they were simply Jeno and Renjun. 

That night he’d laid back down on the spare mattress, listening to the sound of Jeno’s heavy breaths as he faced the other way with his eyes still open. He didn’t sleep much, and in the morning Jeno had tried to smile at him, but it was awkward. Renjun could tell he wanted to make it okay, but he also knew they were both aware of what had happened. 

He’d only brought it up with Jeno one other time, on a walk home from school, when he’d stopped in the middle of the pavement on an empty street corner. Jeno had noticed and paused too, looking at Renjun with wide eyes. 

“It’s okay”, Jeno had said firmly but his voice was cold. “We’re good.” 

Jeno didn’t mention it then, and so Renjun didn’t either. 

The friendship had been salvaged, and the cracks were smoothed over by unspoken words. There was too much else to focus on, after all he was sixteen now, they both were, and life was about exams – feelings weren’t in that equation, he didn’t have time for them. 

Renjun slung his blazer around his shoulders, fitting his arms into the creased sleeves, but pausing in front of the mirror in the corner of the room. He glared at his face, where the softness in his cheeks from younger years had grown out into the definition around his jaw. Running a finger along it, he traced where it jutted out and saw his own sharp eyes. 

He swiped his phone from beside the bed and tapped the screen quickly to check the time, shoving it into his pocket. Taking his backpack from beside the bed, and the one with his ballet clothes, he walked to the door. He hurried down the stairs, glancing at the mess in kitchen, the empty cartons and the dirty table top, before taking a slice of bread and throwing it into the toaster hastily, pushing the handle at the side. His bags were still draped across him awkwardly and it was a struggle to reach into one of the drawers and pull out a knife to butter it. 

His mother was still asleep, but she knew about his routine now. He’d told her about ballet again and she’d reacted better than he’d expected, but he knew she wanted nothing to do with it. 

The school was quiet this early, only a few other students milling aimlessly outside the gates. It was even quieter in the practice gym, and once Renjun had changed into his sweats, he’d found it as vacant as it usually was at this time. He lost himself in the movements he’d grown more confident in over the years, repeating the piece the class had been assigned that week, over and over until he looked at the clock, seeing he had half an hour before his first class. 

His locker was on the other side of the building and he opened the metal door, retrieving a set of textbooks and stuffing them into his bag. He pushed it shut, greeted by Jeno, now stood in the spot where the door had hidden him from view. He was grinning, one arm resting on the frame of the next locker. Renjun jumped, punching Jeno’s shoulder playfully and folding his arms. 

“Have you been practising again?”, Jeno asked, arching an eyebrow as he glanced at the bag over Renjun’s shoulder. 

“It still needs work”, Renjun said, picking up his second bag, “but I’ve almost perfected my arabesque.” 

“Your what?” 

Renjun sighed. “It’s when you put your arm up like this”, he started, raising his arm but dropping it quickly and shaking his head through a laugh. “oh nevermind, if you’re here early tomorrow you can come to the practice room and I’ll show you.” 

“I’d like that”, Jeno smiled, still leant against the locker. 

“I haven’t seen you much recently.” 

“I haven’t been _out_ , studying’s taken over everything”, Jeno replied, rolling his eyes. “How’s it going for you?” 

Renjun shrugged. “It’s okay.” 

“Have you been studying _anything_ that isn’t ballet?” 

Renjun kicked the floor. “Yeah, some.” He knew he needed to do more, that the late nights cramming before tests and barely scaping passes between dance rehearsals was starting to lose its novelty. “I think I need help though.” 

“With what?” 

“Everything”, Renjun smiled, earning another eye roll from Jeno. 

That year had gone by quickly and finals were in a few months, everything was about exams. He needed to focus, and he did, but he got distracted too. 

Jeno pushed himself off the locker. “I’ve got to get to class, let me know when you want me to help you.” 

“Okay”, Renjun replied, watching Jeno start to walk away. 

He meant to turn from Jeno, but he found that he couldn’t, caving in the same way he had when they were fifteen. He could still emulate the feeling now, the small fluttering in his stomach. 

He walked in the other direction. 

Jeno did come back the next day, early in the morning when Renjun was practising. Even then, Renjun’s gaze caught his as he watched him from the side of the empty room, points already feeling more perfect, like a sudden inspiration. 

Dancing for Jeno would always feel like that. 

\--

Renjun knew he wanted to dance. 

The dream hadn’t changed, he’d known it for a long time, but to get there he had a lot to learn. He needed to be taught everything, but he knew he wouldn’t find _everything_ here. 

It was three days later that he started to search for ballet schools across the country, and one day after that he’d found one. He told Jeno the next week, when both of them had been sprawled on the other’s bed. Renjun lay on his stomach with a textbook buried in the sheets and glanced behind him at Jeno who was leaning on the headboard. His foot was already overlapped with Jeno’s ankle and he wriggled it, kicking Jeno lightly to gain his attention. 

“Is this right?” Jeno looked up, squinting at the textbook Renjun held. 

“Yeah”, he smiled. “If you keep it like this you’ll pass with no problem.” 

Renjun dropped back on the bed, arms falling above his head as he let the textbook slip onto the sheets and closed his eyes. “ _I just want to dance_ ”, he implored. When he opened them, Jeno was leaning over him. 

“You really are serious about this, aren’t you?” 

Renjun nodded, taking his phone from his pocket, and searching through the tabs he’d opened on it. He sat up, holding the phone in front of Jeno’s face. 

“ _Seoul national ballet school_?”, Jeno read aloud, peering at the screen and frowning. 

“It’s the best one in the country”, Renjun continued, scrolling down. “There’s an application process, they hold auditions if they like you.” 

“If they like you?” 

“If you’re _good_ enough.”, Renjun confirmed. 

“Aren’t schools like that expensive?” 

“Not if you have a scholarship.” 

“Imagine it, you’re at the best ballet school in Seoul and I’m at medical college there.” Jeno laughed and shook his head. 

“You’re going to college in Seoul?” 

“When I’m eighteen, that’s where the best ones are.” Jeno smiled at Renjun again. “What do you have to do to get into ballet school anyway?” 

Renjun stood then, extending a leg out and spinning gracefully, foot brushing the soft carpet as he landed. The stars still plastered to Jeno’s wall from childhood blurred around him until he focused on one near the corner of the ceiling and stopped. “Practise”, he grinned. 

“I’ll help you.” 

Renjun laughed. “How are you going to help me?” 

“I don’t know but I will.” 

Renjun spun again, feeling his shirt rise and his skin meet the cool air. 

“Your core is getting stronger”, Jeno commented. 

Renjun’s hand flew to his shirt, pulling it over the exposed skin nervously. He felt the hint of muscle that had formed on his stomach from the hours he’d put into practice, running his fingers down the definition. “That’s good, right?” 

“Yeah, that’s good”, Jeno said with a small laugh as Renjun flopped back across the bed. 

After another agonising hour of studying, Renjun shut the textbook and stuffed it into his backpack. “I should go.” 

“Will you be alright?” 

“If you mean my mother, then yes”, Renjun answered sharply, “I’ll be fine, she’s at home, but even if she weren’t, I’d still be fine”, he added, putting his feet into his shoes beside the bed. Jeno was always like this now, since he’d found out about everything, he was always trying to protect him from something. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow then.” 

“Yeah.” 

The thoughts of ballet school didn’t go away, in fact they grew more persistent, until the idea consumed everything that Renjun did. He knew that if he wanted to go, he would have to go now. When Jeno had wanted to help, Renjun told him to watch and so he stayed sometimes, after school or in the mornings. 

That day was different though, he’d asked him to film the audition. 

Jeno agreed eagerly, and when he’d burst through the doors of the gym after school, Renjun smiled. He was out of breath, hair sticking up from where the wind had obviously ruffled it, but he was clutching a camera in one hand and a tripod in the other. It was borrowed from his dad, and he stood opposite Renjun now, fiddling with the buttons as he adjusted the settings at the side. He stopped when Renjun took something small out of his bag. 

“What are you doing?” 

“It’s just show stuff” Renjun unzipped the pouch, pulling out eyeliner and a mirror from inside. He flipped it down and peered into it, drawing one line across the first lid, and lowering his hand. “We always do it for recitals”, he continued and inspected himself in the mirror, moving to the second and repeating the action. “It’ll look better on camera.” He took out a tube, twisting it and running it over his lips, smacking them together loudly. Renjun looked up at Jeno, who already had his gaze fixed on him. He wondered how long Jeno had been watching him for. “How do I look?”, he rushed closing the bag and standing. 

“You look different.” 

“Bad different?”, Renjun hesitated, “or good different?” 

Jeno shrugged. “Just different.” He turned back to the camera, looking through the viewfinder. 

“Is the lighting alright?” 

Jeno gave him a small thumbs up. “Ready?”, he asked, finger already hovering over the record button. 

Renjun nodded but he could feel the nerves as Jeno finally pressed down on it. 

‘ _Say your name_ ’, Jeno mouthed when Renjun was still, standing at the edge of the white tape he’d plastered on the floor in a neat square. 

“Huang Renjun”, he said loudly, stretching his feet apart and hearing the sound of his voice echo through the empty room, “Sixteen”, he relaxed as he saw Jeno smile from behind the poised camera, “performing a piece from _the nutcracker_.” Renjun had practised it so many times, _the pas des deux_ , the final scene, he hoped it would come naturally. 

Jeno stepped forward and flicked the switch of the stereo he’d plugged into the wall socket. The music played noisily as Renjun checked the space around him, calculating the movements he needed until the cue cut in, and he then made them real, letting the rhythm find him as he sprung forward on the point of his foot and landed. 

Afterwards, Jeno flipped the camera shut and took it off the stand, but when his eyes met with Renjun, standing inside the square still, he smiled. 

“What?”, Renjun laughed. 

“I haven’t seen you dance properly like that for so long”, Jeno stuttered, tucking the camera under his arm. “I can’t believe you’ve got that good.” 

“Really?” 

“That was incredible.” 

“Do you think _they’ll_ like me?” 

“Of course, they will”, Jeno smirked. 

The night they submitted the audition, they’d stayed late in the school library, uploading the file from the camera to one of the computers. Renjun’s hand had hovered over the mouse hesitantly and Jeno had moved a hand onto his, pressing gently. 

He’d slammed his eyes shut, and they hit send together. 

\--

He pushed it to the back of his mind after that. If by the smallest of chances, he was successful, he would start at the beginning of the next school year. He hadn’t told his mother yet, although he was sure it wouldn’t matter to her whether he was in the house or not. Instead, he focused on trying to pass his exams. As summer neared, they came and went, and time drew him to the final recital. Renjun had got the main part, excelling further than he, or anyone else ever imagined he could. 

He was sat backstage tying the knots in his ballet shoes when Yeeun trudged towards him. Her hair was pulled back in two tight buns and she was wearing a lilac tutu that stuck out. She dropped next to him, the tutu covering Renjun’s legs as she huffed loudly, winding the ribbons of her own pointed shoes around her ankles. 

“I can’t believe this is the last one”, she sighed. 

“There’ll be more next year.” 

“Not for me, I’m not taking ballet.”, she said. “I can’t anymore.” 

“Why?” 

“I want to be a math teacher.” 

Renjun knew everyone else was moving on, away from their childish wants and to reality, he was stuck with the unattainable dream. He quietened and looked at the floor. “I applied for ballet school”, he mumbled. 

“You did? The new one in town?” Renjun stayed silent, “somewhere different?” 

“Seoul national ballet school.” 

He heard her tiny intake of breath, and when he finally peered up, her eyes were wide. “Renjun”, she gasped. “They have the best ballet coaches in the country”, she continued, face falling slightly. “It’s so hard to get in. Gosh”, she gushed, “I remember when you were that shy twelve year old that didn’t know anything about ballet, now you’re about to dance the lead part”, she paused dramatically, throwing her head back, “and then you tell me you’re applying for ballet school.” 

“I haven’t got in yet.” 

She brought her hands out of her lap then, crossing the index and middle finger of both and smiling widely at him. 

“I’m going to need that luck”, he laughed, “with exams too.” 

Renjun felt the touch of a hand against his own, friendly, and familiar, a welcoming comfort. 

“Whatever happens, whatever grades are written inside that envelope, you’ll be okay”, she pointed to the curtain that was drawn across the stage in front of them, “and you’ll be amazing out there too.” She squeezed his hand lightly and then let go as her smile faded. “Is Jeno here to see you tonight?” 

Renjun nodded. “Yeeun.” 

Renjun thought she looked a little sad and it made him wonder if she still liked him. Jeno was always so dismissive of those nights last year, he didn’t know what had happened between them. 

“What happened?”, Renjun asked, and everything around them seemed to go silent, he could tell she knew what he meant. She searched his face, lips parted slightly as she breathed out. 

“ _Oh Renjun_ ”, she sighed pitifully. 

He’d forgotten that encounter through the years that followed, until later when he understood, but at the time it made no sense. 

They were interrupted then, ushered on stage one by one, and when Renjun took his place at the centre, it wasn’t like the first recital all those years ago. One constant stayed the same though, Jeno was sat near the back, clapping loudly once he’d finished. 

Dancing was a passion for him in those moments. 

\--

Renjun still remembered the day of the exam results, how he, Jeno and Yeeun had collected them together and how he’d run in the direction of the bathroom. He’d slammed the bolt of one of the cubicles across and torn the paper open desperately. 

He’d scraped passes, but they were what he needed to not fail the year. 

Yeeun passed too, and Jeno’s results were outstanding, one of the top scores. 

Then the first letter came in the mail. 

Renjun hadn’t expected anything, which is why when the letter did arrive, he’d snatched it from the growing pile beside the door and opened it alone in his room before his mother could see. He slotted it back into the brown envelope and ran, out of the house, still clasping it tightly in his hand, like he never wanted to let go - _he wasn’t there yet, he reminded himself._

Jeno hugged him when he found out about the call back audition. 

“It’s in Seoul”, Renjun said with his head buried into the crook of Jeno’s neck. 

“When is it?” 

“Two weeks.” 

Jeno promised to go with him, and two weeks later, he’d paid for the train journey, and Renjun had promised to pay him back once he had the money. He’d told his mother that they would spend two nights in Seoul, and she’d hugged him, that’s when he knew she was trying. 

The day they left, they’d waited thirty minutes for the train to arrive, Jeno disappearing into one of the tiny shops at the side of the station and returning later clutching a handful of snacks. He grinned at Renjun, who was sat at one of the benches along the empty platform. 

They had booked seats on the train, and Renjun ran ahead excitedly through the carriage to find them, inspecting the numbers on each of the seats until he saw the ones that matched what was printed on the ticket. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d left the town, or been on a train, so everything felt new again. He knew he had been on a train once, he just couldn’t remember it. It was quiet enough for Renjun to hear Jeno laughing from the opposite end of the carriage as he lugged his bag along to where Renjun had already sat in a seat alongside the sunny view through the window. 

The journey took five hours, seeming to drag forever. Jeno set the snacks in front of them, a can of coke each and a small packet of cookies fished from his pocket. Renjun’s excitement eventually turned to nerves with each mile closer to the city and he was silent as he looked out the window, the countryside disappearing as they left it behind. 

“I can’t believe it’s actually tomorrow”, he said, still staring out the window as the view rushed past him. 

“Try not to think about it right now.” Jeno reached for the untouched can of coke he’d left on the tray for Renjun and handed it to him. “Get some rest if you can.” 

Renjun opened the drink, it fizzed, and he set it on the tray attached to the seat in front. He spent the remainder of the journey staring out of the window at the tracks and the glimpse of large buildings that blurred past, tracing the outline occasionally as a child would on a long journey, until he closed his eyes, heavy as he struggled to keep them open with the exhaustion of adrenalin. 

When he opened them again, he was met by a warmth that hadn’t been there before, cheek pressed onto Jeno’s shoulder and head flung backwards. The world was blurry as it came into focus and he looked towards Jeno, who had fallen asleep, his head resting on Renjun’s hair with his face pressed against it. This close, he could feel each time Jeno took in a steady breath, but he wriggled out of their entanglement, careful not to jostle Jeno and rouse him. The other’s head fell limply without support and Renjun smiled fondly at him as his hair flopped over his forehead lazily. He peered out the window again as the city centre came into view and tall buildings littered the skyline. 

The train slowed finally and Renjun nudged Jeno, the two stepping out onto the crowded platform. He imagined Seoul would be like this, but it was alien, the little streets and tiny corners of home replaced by large busy buildings in the heat of summer. 

The hostel they’d book was only a walk away from the station. It was cheap, a third-floor room with two single beds and stark beige walls. The lighting fixture attached to the ceiling flickered intermittently and some of the floor tiles were cracked. 

It was already late afternoon by the time they’d dumped their bags on the bed and walked to the shop across the street, the sign lit garishly above the store. They bought packet food from there, returning to the room to lay across one of the beds. Renjun picked at a few bits but found his nerves meant that he couldn’t stomach much of it. He switched the television on, and it blared in the background to cut through the tension already in the air, saving them from the silence. 

Renjun got up, pacing to a spot by the window and raising his arm above his head, stretching his muscles out as he frowned with concentration. Jeno was laying on the bed still, a packet gripped between his hands. 

“Want some?” Jeno held the foil bag out in Renjun’s direction. 

Renjun shook his head, stretching in the opposite direction. “I’m fine”, he stated, feeling the burn ache through his muscles. 

“You need to eat something.” 

Renjun felt the anxiety bubbling inside him and swallowed, stretching to rest a foot on a chair next to the small, worn table. “I’ll have some later”, he insisted. He reached forward but tutted as the chair wobbled without a force to keep it weighted. “Can you help me with this?” 

Jeno put the packet back in the plastic bag and sat up on the bed. “What do I need to do?”, he walked forward, standing opposite him with the chair between them. 

“It keeps wobbling”, Renjun huffed as he gestured to the chair and reached again for his pointed toes. Jeno wrapped a hand gently around his ankle, steadying it and holding the chair still. “Thanks”, he grinned leaning forward and bending his body in half flexibly. He held that position before switching hands, extending further with his fingertips so that he accidently grazed Jeno’s white t-shirt over his chest. The contact prickled through his fingers and up his arm to pierce his heart. He looked up, alarmed, and Jeno’s grip around his ankle loosened. 

“We should sleep”, Renjun mumbled, dropping his foot from the chair, and barging past Jeno towards the bathroom, closing the door hastily. He leant against the back of it, squeezing his eyes shut and sliding down to the floor, burying his head in his hands with the weight of stress. He sniffed, tensing, and straightened his back as he stood again, slipping into his pyjamas, and checking his face in the mirror as he unlocked the door. He walked slowly towards the bed that Jeno was already sitting on and took a packet out from the plastic bag, forcing some of the food down. 

An hour later, when Renjun flicked off the light switch beside the bed, they were still. In the darkness, he couldn’t see Jeno clearly, only the city lights streaming through the window and painting the room in an artificial glow. He rolled over, facing the wall. 

“Jeno?” 

“Yeah?” 

“I’m terrified.” Renjun knew it wasn’t just about the audition, there were so many things that terrified him, but Jeno didn’t know that. 

“Just do what you always do”, Jeno murmured sleepily, voice muffled by the pillow he was leaning into, “like no one else is watching.” 

There was silence again, Renjun listening to Jeno’s steady breathing. 

“Jeno?” 

“Yeah”, Jeno laughed. 

“I couldn’t have done this without you.” 

It was quiet, drawn out for a few seconds. 

“Go to sleep Renjun.” 

Renjun fell asleep restlessly, one arm dangling off the bed and the other tucked under his chin. 

\--

The day of the audition was still a blur to him, over time his thoughts had become so full of Jeno that the lasting memories were mostly of him. 

He remembered how they’d passed through the streets, and he’d stopped to stare at the buildings or landmarks that he had to be pulled away from. Jeno said he’d miss the audition if he kept stalling, that he’d show Renjun around the city in the afternoon. Renjun had nodded, letting himself be dragged away. He knew that Jeno still remembered Seoul from when he was a child, he’d said those were things he could never forget. 

The school was even more beautiful than the pictures Renjun had seen on his phone. It was located in a quiet corner of the city, the grounds of the huge old building circled by gardens with a large fountain in the centre. There was an archway at the entrance with steps that led through to the hallways that were doused with marble fittings. It was as though it had been pulled straight from the screen of a movie. 

They were directed to a room with others in, so many others, all clad in fitted leotards and warming up already, their faces steely and focused. It made him want to turn and run. He’d never known ballet as a competition, but something about the _looks_ told him that it was one, and that he had to win it. All he was ever used to was being the best, he was their school’s asset, but here he was out of his depth. 

When his name was finally called out, he glanced at Jeno, who smiled at him. 

Then he only saw the panel of people below the stage, the velvety curtains that were drawn and the x marked in the centre, but he’d done what Jeno told him to do, danced like no one else was watching. 

Jeno was still sat in the waiting room when he returned, but he jumped out of his seat, rushing over expectantly. 

“How was it?” 

“I don’t know.” 

“That could be a good sign”, Jeno tried. 

“It could be bad too. I think they hated it.” 

“You don’t know until you get the next letter.” Jeno slung an arm around his shoulder and Renjun leant his head into the gap there, taking some comfort from it. 

He was deflated and uneasy after that, trekking the paved streets back to the hostel. There was a convenience store on the street corner, and they stopped, taking two cups of ramen back to the room and eating quietly. Renjun could feel the tension in the air as they sat on one of the beds, but he was safe with Jeno. 

Jeno was flicking through a leaflet he’d picked up from the lobby of the hostel about Seoul as he finished the remainder of the ramen. Renjun watched him discreetly, studying his face, the soft skin and the tiny mole beneath his eye, dark lashes framing them, all the familiarity that made Jeno who he was to Renjun. Jeno wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and Renjun was drawn to his lips, remembering how soft they were. He wondered if they’d still be like that now, if he could place his own mouth against them, if Jeno could reciprocate. All the feelings that Renjun concealed were captured by two words. 

“Thank you”, he blurted out. 

The last day in Seoul, Jeno had said there was somewhere he wanted to go, and as they stood in front of it now, Renjun understood. 

The bakery was boarded up, wooden panels nailed over the door and the sign above it peeling at the sides. They stood on the street opposite with their bags, watching as commuters bustled past it without a second thought. 

“Is that-“ 

Jeno nodded. “That’s where I grew up.” 

Renjun knew Jeno was thinking about his mother as he looked at the bakery with a pained half smile, shoulders slumping, glaring at the building that had been ruined by time. 

Renjun didn’t know what to say, so he stayed silent, turning away from it and to Jeno. 

“Come on”, he said and put a hand on Jeno’s back, “let’s go home.” 

\--

The second letter came one month later, on a Saturday in the late summer. 

His mother was on the couch but looked up at the sudden sound that Renjun had let out. 

“The ballet school, I got in”, he rushed. 

“What?” 

“I got in, they gave me a place.” Renjun could feel his hands shaking. 

She stared at him blankly. 

“I’ll be back later.” He stumbled to the door. 

This time when he ran to the bakery, Jeno was behind the counter serving a customer, he waited behind them, still gripping the letter tightly behind his back. Jeno noticed Renjun and frowned, greeting the customer. 

Renjun waited, hopping from foot to foot until the person had left, then springing forward and slamming the letter on the counter, standing opposite Jeno. “I got in.” 

“What?” 

“I got in”, Renjun repeated. “They gave me a scholarship.” 

Jeno scanned the contents of the letter and grinned. 

“You got in”, he said and they both laughed. 

Renjun stepped back, still clutching the letter. “I’ve got to move to Seoul”, he rushed, worries flowing through him. “How am I going to do that?”, he mumbled to himself, suddenly anxious as he crumpled the letter in his tightening grip. Jeno slipped out from behind the counter and put an arm around him, pulling him close into an embrace and laughing. 

“Calm down”, he soothed, running a hand across Renjun’s back and looking at him. “That’s amazing. It’s everything you’ve worked for.” 

Renjun’s smile dropped. “Seoul”, he repeated. 

He wanted to be happy, and he was, happier than he’d ever been, but his lips pressed into a thin line as he pursed them together. 

“When do you leave?”, Jeno said quietly. 

“September.” 

Jeno pulled him in again, Renjun finding his comfort in the warmth. “It’s everything you’ve always wanted.” 

_Not quite everything_ , Renjun thought as he let his head rest on the other’s shoulder weakly. 

\--

Renjun had spent the last of the summer at Jeno’s house as much as he could. It didn’t matter what they did as long as he was with Jeno. It wouldn’t be anything extravagant; movies, or pointless conversations, Renjun even helped Jeno in the bakery some days. He waited for tomorrows, but as they slipped away he knew they were running out of them. 

On the final night, Jeno had asked him what he wanted to do. 

“Go to the riverbank”, Renjun had replied immediately. 

The streets were so familiar to both of them, and Renjun tried to take them in. He didn’t know how long it would be until he came back, he knew he would though, this was home, and home had Jeno. He smiled as the bank of the river came into view, empty in the early evening. Jeno followed Renjun, onto the bridge that crossed the river and they stood, watching the flow. Renjun felt an ache in his chest as he looked out across the water, the years unravelling in front of him like the film of a camera, their childhood, the secrets shared here, everything. 

Renjun turned, seeing a pile of sticks laying by the path’s edge. He ran to them, picking two up and darting back to Jeno and smirking as he held one out. 

“Like we used to”, he laughed and Jeno took it. 

As they dropped them over the bridge, Renjun thought about the early days he’d spent with Jeno, the two lost ten-year olds, how much had changed. They walked slowly to the other side, the sticks appearing, cast away rapidly with the water flow, Renjun’s ahead of Jeno’s. 

“I won”, Renjun teased. 

“It’s all going right for you, isn’t it?” 

That’s how it had been from that moment onwards, Jeno would always be behind him, waiting for him. Before they were sixteen, it had always been Jeno and Renjun, now it was becoming Renjun and Jeno. 

Renjun ran ahead towards the bank of the river, where the grass was uncut and overgrown from the months of summer that had passed. 

“Slow down”, Jeno called, but Renjun laughed and laid amongst the flowers, inhaling deeply as he looked at the stars that had begun to appear. 

When Jeno caught up, he lay beside him carefully, and Renjun was aware of his body heat, the two watching the same sky, the stars a palette of colour over their heads. 

“Are you ready for tomorrow?” 

The lightness inside Renjun’s heart dissolved then. “I don’t think I’ll ever be ready”, he murmured. 

“You’ve been planning frantically all week”, Jeno laughed, voice lowering as he spoke. “What about your mom, is she alright?” 

“I hate her.” 

Renjun felt suffocated as Jeno turned, their breath heavy in the air. This close, he could see Jeno’s eyes, the gentle flicker of dark pupils that met with deep velvet irises. It was wonderful to stare into them, but it terrified him, to be so close to something he couldn’t have. 

He sat up, focusing on the grass by the river bank instead. “I love her”, he spoke, “and I’m scared for her.” 

“She loves you”, Jeno said as he sat, rising to mirror Renjun’s actions. The moon glittered across the river, a trail leading to where the two of them were sat. 

“She can’t even bear to look at me sometimes”, Renjun scoffed. “It used to hurt, but now I just feel sorry for her.” 

“Maybe she loves you more than you think.” 

Renjun held himself up on his shaking palms. “If you’d asked me at eleven what I was most afraid of”, Renjun could feel his voice wavering as he spoke, he glared at the grass, “I would have said losing you Jeno.” 

Jeno didn’t say anything, but he heard rustling and glanced up, seeing him digging into the pocket of his jacket and taking something out, a fist closed around it. “I have something for you”, he breathed. He felt Jeno take his hand, compliant as he opened his fist and dropped the contents into his palm. 

Renjun looked down, seeing the tiny silver chain resting in the centre of it. He took it tentatively, the silver catching the glint of the moonlight and glowing under it, _jeno loved stars_. There were two tiny pendants attached to the chain, a moon and star. 

“Why?” He held the necklace up and inspected it. 

“It was my mother’s”, Jeno replied, “but I want you to have it.” 

“It’s beautiful.” 

Renjun felt fingers slide onto his own, prying the necklace out of his grasp gently. He lowered his hand, losing sight of Jeno as the other shifted in the grass. Fingertips brushed across the nape of his neck and he shivered as he felt the cold metal chain on his skin, Jeno’s breath tickling as he linked the clasp and it hung loosely over Renjun’s collarbones. He touched the pendants instinctively, fingers running over them as though seeking comfort. 

“Thank you”, he whispered but Jeno didn’t say anything. 

Instead, he sat back in the grass, face lined with troubled creases. Still, Renjun thought he looked like artwork, the moon the greatest artist as it streaked his face in silvery beauty. This time Jeno’s eyes were clouded by something that Renjun had never seen. He waited, trying to take in every detail of Jeno. 

That’s when he started to get closer, and Renjun noticed warm fingers brush his nape, drawing them together. 

It was quick, fleeting but tender, Jeno’s lips meeting his gently. 

Renjun’s lips welcomed his, but Jeno pulled away almost instantly. 

His face was empty. Renjun stared at him, wide eyed and dismayed. There was something mellow about it, in those moments they were lost, the years of kept secrets shattering as he exhaled shakily. Jeno wasn’t his, Jeno didn’t like boys, Jeno liked girls, _nothing made sense_ , he repeated the thoughts. If it wasn’t Yeeun, then it was another, but it wasn’t Renjun. 

“You shouldn’t have done that”, Renjun whispered finally. 

Jeno moved away, hands settling in the grass. “I’m sorry.” 

“I didn’t say that I didn’t want you to.” Renjun moved closer again, “only that you shouldn’t have done it.” His lips lingered over Jeno’s already parted ones. “You’ve just made it a million times harder for me to leave.” 

He connected their lips again and pushed Jeno backwards, into the shadows of the moonlight, where their secret could be kept once again. He was sure it wasn’t real, but in every breath he took with his mouth still pressed against Jeno’s, it became harder to deny. Jeno smelt like fresh cotton, the scent catching from his shirt and intoxicating Renjun. He pressed tiny kisses onto Jeno’s lips, small ones which made him pull away each time, only to be drawn back in. They were filled with a longing, a desperation to feel the sensation over and over again, but finally his lips stayed on Jeno’s. The small kisses melted into longer ones and Jeno’s hands came up to Renjun’s face, holding it tenderly. Renjun felt a thumb run over his jaw, his body fevered from the touches that perforated it. Jeno’s tongue grazed across his bottom lip faintly and he let him in, surrendered and gave himself completely. 

By the time Renjun became aware of it, his fingers had held onto Jeno’s shirt, scrunching the fabric near his chest. This wasn’t like when they were fifteen, he could feel Jeno kissing back this time, the two in complete harmony. 

He opened his eyes briefly and saw the stargazer lilies that had clustered and grown by the bank of the river, the stargazer lilies that reminded him of his childhood, the stargazer lilies that would always mean home to him, just like Jeno’s lips did in those moments. 

They were breathless when they broke apart, and Renjun squeezed his eyes shut, resting his forehead against Jeno’s softly. “Why?”, he whispered, kissing him once and pulling away. “Why?”, he repeated it more frantically and kissed him again harder, holding Jeno’s shirt tighter between his fingers. “ _Why now_?”, he said weakly, his forehead still pressed onto Jeno’s as he opened his eyes, the corners filling with tears finally. 

“I’m sorry.” 

“Don’t be”, Renjun breathed, looking deep into the soft brown eyes, “I’ve wanted to do that for a long time.” He choked through a laugh as a tear rolled down his cheek. “I didn’t know you felt the same way.” 

Jeno hooked his arms protectively around Renjun’s waist and kissed him slowly. “I didn’t know I did either.” His voice was quiet. “We’ll see each other, we can meet up, I’ll stay here until school finishes and then I’ll join you”, he hesitated, “in Seoul.” He ran his hands down Renjun’s back, putting every touch they’d been deprived of into the gentle movements of his fingertips. “I don’t want you to go”, he said, finally losing his composure and burying his face in Renjun’s hair. “That’s just me being selfish though, you have to.” 

Renjun pulled Jeno in and kissed him, even though he knew tomorrow would come and take him away. 

\--

Renjun looked at the clock, they’d be here in less than an hour. Seeing Jeno wouldn’t help him understand what they were, he didn’t know what they were now. 

He packed the final things into the suitcase that lay by his door, taking the grey sweater that Jeno had given him out of the closet and stuffing it into the already full suitcase. He’d grown out of it, but he knew that it would always remind him of home. He stood in front of his mirror, having not taken the necklace off since last night when Jeno had placed it so carefully around his neck, he stared at it. He touched the pendants again, not knowing at the time that it would become a habit of his over the years, when he thought everything would never be okay, when he needed strength. 

When he’d finally hauled the case downstairs, he saw his mother. She was sat at the table in the kitchen, he could tell she had been crying because her eyes were red and pooled with tears. He pulled the suitcase to the door, but she didn’t look up from the table. 

“Goodbye then”, he tried but she was silent. He sighed, dragging the handle forward. 

“Renjun wait.” 

He stopped still, dropping his hand from the case. 

“Be careful.” She acknowledged him finally. 

Renjun walked to her slowly, wrapping his arms around her thin frame and pulling her into a hesitant hug, chin resting on top of her head. 

“I love you”, she whispered into his shirt and stroked the back of his head. “Have you got everything you need?” 

“Jeno’s dad’s taking me to the station.” 

She sniffed and nodded. “You’ll come back won’t you?” 

“I’ll come back”, he said softly. 

She took out her purse then, fumbling inside it, grabbing a handful of notes, and taking Renjun’s hand. She pushed the money into his palm and smiled sadly. “I’m sorry I can’t give you more.” She touched his cheek. “Take care of yourself.” 

He’d been doing that his entire life. 

\--

The station was quiet as usual, but the noise of Renjun’s thoughts made him feel like the world around him was imploding. Jeno was there, standing with his dad after they were ushered onto the platform. 

The train had already pulled into the station. 

He hugged Jeno’s dad first, the man that had always welcomed him, always been warm and kind, and then he hugged Jeno weakly. 

“Wait for me”, Jeno said close to Renjun’s ear, choking up. 

“I’m going to miss you so much”, Renjun whispered and bit his lip. 

Renjun wanted to kiss him again, and if it had just been the two of them, then he would have done. But they were exposed, Jeno’s dad still behind them and people around boarding the train. He wasn’t sure if he’d ever want to pull away if he did either. 

It was okay though, it could wait until they next saw each other, when Jeno came to Seoul or Renjun came home. He’d board the train alone now, keeping the memories of the night at the river bank close to him. 

Whatever he felt for Jeno didn’t have a beginning, he couldn’t pinpoint or trace it back to any one linear point in time. For as long as he could remember it had been like this. 

He should have held onto the memory of Jeno’s face better, he should have tried harder to memorise every detail of it. He would need to, but at the time there was no urgency. As he boarded the train and peered through the window at Jeno on the platform, he was reminded of their trip to Seoul, except this time Jeno wasn’t beside him. 

He sat back in his seat as the train pulled away, Jeno’s smiling face becoming distant. It was the last part of home that he saw disappear. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ................  
> ehehehe sorry for the cliffhanger ..... maybe I cried writing this chapter :") 
> 
> thank you so much for reading! I'd love to hear any thoughts you have, comments and kudos are really appreciated <3  
> twitter: renjunfairydust
> 
> [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.qa/renjunfairydust)


	5. Chapter 5

The lighting in Jeno’s bedroom was low, only the glare from the lamp settled on the edge of his desk, embellishing the textbook page. He copied one of the equations into the notebook resting in his lap, scribbling around it with a pencil, the graphite smudging messily across the page. It was morning, but he hadn’t bothered to pull the curtains yet, and so he stayed in the dim light, flicking the papers restlessly. 

He’d spend hours like that, cooped up, it was what he needed to get the grades for college. The eighteen-year-old hadn’t done much but study for the last two years, and it was tiring to stare at the words that blurred into one printed on the pages. 

But he knew he needed to pass. He needed to do more than pass if he wanted to get into medical school - which is why he found himself stuck there now, pencil wavering between his fingers. He flipped it and pursed his lips, the pencil dropping back into his grasp before he continued writing. 

He looked up at the lamp, but the brightness made him squint, eyes wandering from it and catching the wooden frame that had become dusty with the passing of time. The figures in the photograph made his grip around the pencil tighten and its point started to dig into his skin with the force. 

_It had been winter, the photograph was taken of Renjun and Jeno when they were sixteen, after one of his recitals. Renjun was still wearing his show clothes, but a large black jacket had been thrown over him by Jeno to shield against the cold air outside the front of the school. Jeno’s dad had taken the picture of them together, one of Jeno’s arms slung around Renjun’s shoulder and both of them grinning at the camera._

He pressed the pencil harder into his finger without realising, and this time he registered the pain, wincing as it dropped to the carpet. 

He sighed, picking it up and placing it on the desk, alongside the notebook. The bottle of water he’d been keeping beside them was empty, and he stared at it as a distraction, swiping the plastic quickly and rising. He pulled the door open and walked towards the kitchen to refill it. 

The hallway was quiet, the murmur of the television in the lounge just audible. 

He peered inside the empty room, the remote control flung onto the couch as an unwatched programme blared from the screen. _His dad must have been downstairs already_ , he thought, glancing at the television dismissively. 

He reached for the remote to switch it off, but then he heard something that made his blood run cold. 

He turned back to the screen immediately. 

“ _Seoul national ballet school_ ”, he listened to the reporter speak, but he hardly registered the words, too focused on the moving screen. The words were caught in a haze, and the empty bottle in his hand quickly became unimportant, “ _the famous end of year production, a rundown of the show that’s been eagerly awaited nationally_.” The speech sunk into Jeno’s stomach as the camera panned, “ _starring in this year’s production_ ”, the man grinned. 

Jeno didn’t need the name to be said to know who it was, but the words were uttered, and they only reinforced to make him fall completely silent. 

This wasn’t how he wanted it to be, not through the static of a television. 

He sat on the couch instinctively, legs uneasy, fixated by the scene playing out. 

_“The boy with the stars in his eyes, eighteen-year-old Huang Renjun.”_

The camera stopped panning, settling on him, there was no mistake, it was Renjun. Jeno felt sick, so sick, like he could collapse to the carpet right then and tear it at the seams, anything to distract him from seeing that face. 

All Jeno could do though was stay still as he watched with the memory of the sixteen-year-old who’d left. But this Renjun was different, his features were more defined, and heavy, dark make up was painted around his eyes framing them to make him appear even older. He was beaming, outside a theatre, a bouquet of light orange tulips resting on his arm as the camera settled. 

_“The culmination of two years’ hard work at the most prestigious dance school in the country, and the much-coveted role, how do you feel?”_

The microphone was pushed in Renjun’s direction, held over his face. He hesitated, looking directly at the camera, and Jeno felt it pierce his soul, as though he was looking straight at him, but he couldn’t have been. His eyes were the same though, they were something of home that Jeno could pull through the screen to remind him. If Renjun could see the hurt in Jeno’s face now, he was sure that he wouldn’t have been smiling like that, or maybe he would, he didn’t know him anymore. The wave of hurt turned to a spell of anger and Jeno balled his fist but melted when the familiar voice finally spoke, as though no time at all had passed, as though the last two years hadn’t happened. 

_“I’d like to thank my fellow dancers”_ , Renjun said calmly, addressing the camera, _“and my coaches, for making the show a success. We couldn’t have done it without any of them.”_

The reporter nodded, which coaxed a polished smile from Renjun. 

_“Tell us how the training process has been?”_

Jeno’s heart beat harder in horrified anticipation as Renjun opened his mouth to speak, about how it was an honour, everything he’d ever dreamed of, but he could hardly hear it, more attentive to his face, the dark hair that had grown out with ends that touched the nape of his neck. He’d lost weight too. Jeno looked at Renjun’s lips and thought how they had greeted his with so much warmth those years ago, now smiling as if it meant nothing. 

He felt sick again, the dull ache that had already settled becoming something more. 

The Renjun on screen stopped speaking to glance at the bouquet across his arm, looking up and smiling. The reporter spoke and Jeno caught the end of it. _“Is ballet something that you always wanted to do?”_

Jeno watched the pixelated figure’s smile drop slightly, but he leant in towards the microphone. _“Actually, I think I’d be considered a late starter”_ , he stuttered, _“it was at school.”_ Jeno narrowed his eyes, the sweetness of the words turning to venom as he listened to each one leave the lips. _“It was thanks to a friend of mine, who made me follow my dream.”_ Renjun grinned at the camera and his eyes glittered. 

_The boy with the stars in his eyes_ , Jeno thought disdainfully. Renjun was right, Jeno had put those stars there, laid them out on a path for him to follow. He’d put the stars in his eyes and now he couldn’t get them back. 

_“He’ll always be special to me”_ , Renjun finished. 

_Liar._

It couldn’t be true, if he were special to Renjun then it wouldn’t have happened, that wouldn’t have been the first time he’d heard his voice in eight months. If Jeno was special, he wouldn’t be holding onto nothing. 

After Renjun had left, life carried on, and Jeno had carried on with it, because he had to. School was empty without Renjun, in fact, everything had seemed empty without him, and it made him realise just how much Renjun had infiltrated his life. He still played soccer, with the same friends, went to the same classes, and Yeeun had stayed by his side. Jeno found that he could talk to her, conversations that weren’t always about Renjun, he was grateful for that. 

He’d wished it would get easier, and at first it did, Renjun would call and text, a lot, and those times he didn’t feel hundreds of miles away. In between, Jeno studied, it was a distraction – the thoughts of medical school where he wanted to be, where he could see Renjun. 

Even that though, didn’t distract him enough and he thought often of the night before Renjun had left, the new feelings that had arisen from it. He’d never told anyone, all he could do was think about what it would feel like to kiss him again. 

At first the calls had eased everything, the ones in the weeks that followed Renjun leaving. Jeno would lay on top of his bed with a pillow tucked under his chin, listening to Renjun’s excited ramblings down the line. That Renjun had sounded happy, like the Renjun he could see on the screen now. 

“It’s wonderful here”, Renjun had said, “the teaching’s tough, but the practice rooms, they’re huge, double the size of the ones back at school”, he paused to breathe. Jeno heard a sound like he too had just dropped to lay across his bed, “but I really miss you.” 

“It’s only been three weeks”, Jeno had said with a small chuckle, like it didn’t matter, like it was okay, because at the time it was okay, but hearing Renjun’s voice made him feel the ache of separation tugging at his heart. 

Jeno remembered other things that Renjun had said too, things that gave him hope. 

“When you move back to Seoul, you can show me everything properly.” 

“Yeah”, Jeno had grinned. “I know some places we could go, if you think the river back home is pretty, you’ll love the Han river.” 

“But do they have stargazer lilies there?” 

“I don’t know about that”, Jeno had laughed. 

He hadn’t realised how naïve their dreams had been, his at least. 

In the autumn of his sixteenth year, it started to get cold and the days were shorter, but he had time to call Renjun. Renjun had got a job in Seoul, waiting tables at a local restaurant in between his training. The calls started to get later at night, and Renjun had always sounded tired. 

“Is it everything you dreamed of?”, Jeno had asked. 

“Yes.” 

“Are you eating properly?” 

“Yes.” 

There was a long silence before Renjun spoke again, but Jeno could hear his steady breathing. 

“I miss you”, Renjun had blurted out. 

Renjun went to his aunt's for Christmas that year, in Busan. He said his mother was going too, and Jeno booked a train ticket there, so they could see each other. But it didn’t work out, nothing ever worked out for them. The snow had been heavy that December and it lined the streets in thick white ice, the train tracks too. Jeno’s train had been cancelled. 

Renjun promised it was okay, that they could meet another time. Jeno offered to come to Seoul, and Renjun refused, he’d said he wanted to come home – _he never did though_. 

By April, he still hadn’t seen Renjun. He was seventeen now, and he’d sent off his college applications, for medical school in Seoul like he wanted. 

They still called, sometimes, late at night, Renjun’s voice muffled by a pillow. 

“Jeno?” 

“Yeah?” 

“You’re still coming to Seoul, aren’t you?” 

“Yeah.” 

Renjun had yawned. “That’s good.” 

That was the first time since Renjun left that Jeno felt utterly distant from him - he needed to hold on. 

It was quiet for a few moments, only the crackle of the phone line. 

“The kiss”, Jeno started, breathing shakily, “I still remember every feeling.” 

“Me too.” Jeno believed if Renjun had been next to him, he would have seen him smile, or he would have taken his hand, and it would have been comforting. 

“I said I didn’t know that I felt the same way”, he paused, swallowing, “I realise now…”, he trailed off, “well I think I always knew that I did”, he stopped, the weight of his confession catching up with him. “You seem far away now, I feel so distant from you.” He sighed weakly, “I just wish we were back by the river sometimes. I said there were different types of love, and Renjun, I think…” 

He waited but realised how silent it had been. “Renjun?” 

But the other had not responded, and instead Jeno had heard his heavy breaths, knowing his confession had not been noted. He’d cut the phone off and shoved it into his pocket. 

The next day Renjun had texted. 

_I’m sorry, I fell asleep._

_It’s fine._

There weren’t many calls following that one, and Jeno felt less and less as though he could say what he wanted to that night as Renjun was becoming distant, his answers always vague and non-committal. He didn’t tell Jeno much about the school now, everything was superficial, like they were clinging on just for the sake of it. 

“We’ll sort something out”, Renjun had said one day, but they didn’t. 

Renjun worked through the summer holidays, so he couldn’t come home, they’d put up the rent and he needed to pay for it. Even if he could come back though, Jeno wasn’t sure anymore that he would have. 

Jeno was distracted too that summer, his dad had an operation on his knee, and there was no one to tend the bakery whilst he recovered except Jeno, so he was there most days. 

He’d tried to tell Renjun this but there had been nothing. Every time Jeno called, the phone went dead. So, he stopped trying, as it was obvious that he didn’t want to talk. 

He’d walk past Renjun’s house sometimes, and he’d wonder if his mother was there, if she missed him too. But the curtains were always pulled, she had never paid Jeno any attention, so he didn’t think she would remember him anyway. 

He watched the Renjun on the television now, and his heart ached even more, he wished he could ask him why. The camera panned to a line of people stood around Renjun, other dancers. Jeno wondered if they knew him like he did, if Renjun had kissed any of them, broken any of their hearts. 

He curled his fingers into a fist tightly. 

_“These young dancers are the future of ballet”_ , the reporter spoke, but Jeno wasn’t listening anymore. 

The screen cut to clips inside a theatre, and he saw Renjun dancing gracefully on a stage, like he always wanted. Jeno’s anger dissolved for a moment, lost in his elegance, his defined muscles that made every move look effortless, how he wanted to kiss him again, but he couldn’t. He walked to the television, tracing his finger over the outline of him, as though he were really there, gently, the anger gone. Seeing Renjun, he smiled. 

_Pathetic_ , he told himself, retracting the hand, and instantly the anger came flooding back. 

It was enough to push Jeno past his breaking point and he took the remote, pressing the red button at the top of it. The screen went black instantly and he threw it back onto the couch, running out. 

He slammed his bedroom door shut, hearing it crash but not turning back to check on it, instead throwing his fist against the wall. It stung on impact and he pressed his forehead onto the cool plaster to try to calm himself, resting there for a few seconds before he rose. 

He looked around and saw the star stickers still plastered to his wall, he’d never bothered to take them down. They reminded him of his childhood, and right then he hadn’t wanted that, because his childhood was Renjun. All the times they’d been in here together, the times when Renjun had danced for him. 

He reached up to one of the stars, peeling it at the corner. It came off the wall easily, snatched from its place, and he crumpled it in his hand- _cathartic_ , he mused. 

After that he couldn’t stop, pulling the stars off one by one as he tore away his childhood with them, taking his anger out on the lifeless plastic. The room was bare without them, but he felt a twisted sense of accomplishment as he viewed it. 

As he sunk onto his bed, the anger melted away, and he was left empty, staring at the handful of ruined sticky stars. He left them on his desk, glaring at the photo beside the crumpled pile. 

He slammed it face down and it clattered loudly. 

His phone was in his back pocket, and he took it out, sniffing and scrolling through his contacts until he hovered over Yeeun’s name. Pausing to look at his room again, he typed on the keyboard and shoved the device back into the pocket of jeans hastily. 

She arrived forty-five minutes later, when Jeno was calmer. He opened the door and looked blankly at her, stood on the step at the front of the bakery shivering slightly from the autumn air, gripping the sleeves of her sweatshirt. He grunted in acknowledgement, turning, and leaving the door open for her as he walked to the stairs. He knew she would follow, and she did, he could hear her, shutting the door to his bedroom behind them. 

Jeno sat on the bed, and it was silent still. 

Yeeun folded her arms. “Jeno, you texted me, are we going to talk or not?” 

Jeno shrugged. 

“What’s wrong?” She sat beside him on the mattress. 

“I don’t know.” 

“Talk to me”, she said, and her voice had softened this time. He watched her peer around the room, stopping when her eyes settled on the overturned photo frame and the stack of tattered stars beside it. She looked at the walls, and then Jeno. “What did you do?” 

“I took them down, I thought they were childish”, Jeno replied. 

Yeeun sighed. “I’m not talking about that”, she murmured, taking the frame Jeno had slammed down and standing it up, so that Renjun’s smiling face could be seen again. Jeno didn’t have the heart to tell her to stop. The glass in one corner had cracked from its fall and she stared at it before she spoke. “Have you heard from him?” 

“No.” Jeno glared at the carpet, “he looks like he’s doing fine though.” 

“I heard he was doing well”, she laughed lightly, “my friends in the ballet circle all know who he is, don’t they call him the boy with the stars in his eyes?” 

“Yeah, something like that.” 

She frowned. “It’s really strange you haven’t heard from him, you two were so close.” Her gaze travelled to the picture again, “I hope he’s okay.” 

Jeno didn’t say anything as she hummed softly, and then her hand reached for his, fingers running under the fabric of his sleeve to find his wrist. The contact brought him comfort, Yeeun had always been there for him. He was made even warmer by her body heat when she rested her head on his shoulder, over his chest, regarding him with big, wide eyes. He could smell her perfume, overly sweet but comforting, it was the one she always wore. Her hair scattered across his shirt, and she smiled. 

“Do you ever wonder who you’ll end up with”, Jeno asked quietly, hesitating, “you know, in the future, do you ever wonder who it will be?” 

She laughed softly. “There was a time when I wanted it to be you.” 

“Am I really that bad?”, Jeno frowned. _Renjun had left him too_. 

She slapped his arm, shaking her head and settling on his shirt again. “No Jeno, you’re almost everything that I would want.” 

“Almost?” 

She nodded, blinking once. “You’d make someone really happy.” 

Jeno stared back at her for the first time that day, noticing properly how her hair had fallen, and framed her face elegantly. He felt her warmth, her head resting on him and he just wanted to forget. He closed his eyes, and opened them, and she was still there, smiling at him. He liked her, he knew she had liked him, for a long time, even Renjun had seen it. He remembered how he had ignored her after the prom all those years ago, they were only kids, and Renjun was there to distract him, but now he needed distracting from Renjun. 

He knew Yeeun was beautiful, and at the time he had wondered if he might have feelings for her, so without thinking he acted on it, because if she wanted it, then maybe he did too. 

He kissed her, on the lips and she kissed him back, only for a split second. It was only a gentle brush, a fleeting unison, her lips were soft and glossy, and Jeno basked in the distraction he needed. 

She pulled away. 

“Yeeun, will you go on a date with me?”, Jeno rushed, glancing at the floor. 

It was silent for a moment, Yeeun frowned, and then the frown transformed into a laugh that she had to stifle by covering her mouth with her hand. “No.” 

“Why not?” 

She took her hand away from her face, speaking clearly, “because you don’t like me.” 

“Of course I like you.” 

She sat up, the warmth gone from his shoulder. “Let me put it another way”, she looked at him, “It’s not me that you like.” 

“What?” 

She smiled, “you lost your heart years ago.” 

“I did?” 

“It’s been obvious, since we were kids, even then Jeno. I’ve watched it grow.” 

Jeno knew what she was talking about, who she was talking about. He observed the picture again, and suddenly he wanted to pick it up, to punish himself for letting it get cracked, to cradle it to his chest and never let go, because it was all that he had left. The tears stung in the corner of his eyes, and he hated himself, he never cried. “I kissed him.” 

“You did what?” 

“I kissed him”, Jeno choked, a tear finally falling, sliding past his cheek, and catching at his chin. Once the first one came, he couldn’t stop them, and they rolled down his face in fat streaks. He didn’t wipe any of them away, past the point of caring about minor details. “I kissed him”, he repeated, “the night before he left, and he kissed me back”, he said weakly. “We had a plan, we had _so many_ plans”, he sobbed, letting his guard slip completely, “but now he’s gone, and I don’t think I can get him back.” Jeno lowered his head. 

“Jeno, why did you just kiss me?” 

“Because I like you”, he hesitated, “and I thought it would make everything go away.” 

He stiffened when she put her head back against his shoulder, wrapping her arms around him and running a hand across his back. “That doesn’t just make things go away”, she mumbled into his shirt, and he relaxed, hugging her back and his tears dampened her sweater. “It was nice”, she laughed but shook her head, “but I’m never going to be the one that you want. I’ll always be your friend though”, she lifted her head, “it’s okay you know?” She took his hand and squeezed it gently, nodding to the frame, “you love him.” 

“No I don’t.” Another tear fell down his face, betraying him, a pained expression clouded his eyes and he hesitated, “I know I do”, he whispered, “but he doesn’t love me, he doesn’t even answer my calls anymore.” 

“Well”, she squeezed his hand again, “maybe he’s busy.” 

“Yeah, maybe he is.” 

“I’m sure he’ll get in touch.” She let go of his hand, “have you sent off your college application yet?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Seoul?”, she grinned. 

“Of course.” 

“Well, when you get there you can go and see him.” 

He nodded, he was still hanging onto that hope. The hope that he could meet Renjun in Seoul, like they had always planned, and he could find out what happened. 

He looked at the photo on the desk and smiled. 

\--

Jeno didn’t get to Seoul. 

His grades weren’t as he had hoped, and that ruled medical school out, Seoul was not in reach anymore, and neither was Renjun. It had been so long now, he’d already given up the hope he would make contact, the year drew to a close and school finished forever. He’d be moving on again. 

He was offered a place at a college in Daegu, on a physiotherapy course, and so that became his new dream, he adapted. Daegu was good, he told himself, it wasn’t as far from home as Seoul, and the place was nice, the degree was sports based too. 

But it was still a long way from Renjun. 

The day he left, he had been packing, his dad had already loaded most of the boxes into the car, the heavy items, the furniture, and Jeno was in his room, placing the final bits into a small suitcase laid on his bed. 

He’d stopped when he saw the photograph, of Renjun and him, staring at it, debating whether to throw it into a drawer and leave it behind, but he turned, picking it up. It was placed almost shamefully under a folded pile of clothing in the case. 

Life had been okay, and he was okay, he didn’t think of Renjun all the time anymore, only sometimes, but there were so many small things that still reminded him of the other. He’d replaced the cracked frame with a new one he’d bought the week after he’d broken it. 

He took the photo of him and his mother too, one where Jeno was a child, four years old, smiling in her arms, placing it in the case. 

“It’s going to be quiet without you.” 

Jeno jumped, turning quickly, to his dad who stood in the doorway. He gave Jeno a small nod and stepped further into the room. 

“Dad, I’ll come home loads, don’t worry”, he smiled, “I’ll miss this place too much.” 

“I’m proud of you”, his dad spoke, glancing at the case, eyes settling on the photo he had just placed down. “Your mother would be proud too”, he chuckled softly, “I see her in you as you’re growing up, you’ve got all her best traits, she always was so determined.” 

“Do you think you’ll ever find anyone else?”, Jeno asked, looking at his dad sadly. “I just want you to be happy.” 

“I am happy”, he smiled, “I have the most wonderful son in the world”, he paused, “but I don’t think anyone else would ever come close to her, it’s been years, but I still love her the same.” 

Jeno nodded, thinking carefully back to his mother, and realising how much he missed her, that maybe she would’ve known what he should do. 

\--

The university in Daegu was so different to anything that Jeno had ever known. It was huge, in the centre of the city, and when he and his dad had parked up in the entrance on move in day, he had been overwhelmed. The first hours had gone quickly, consisting of trips up and down the campus, of enrolment and collecting keys for his new room. 

It was empty and cold, but they’d soon unloaded the car and the boxes filled the space, piled behind the door. There was a bed in one corner, and a large desk in the other as well as some shelving at the wall, but aside from that the place was bare, and later that day, once his dad had said goodbye, he’d been left alone in it. 

Jeno remembered his first lecture, in one of the big halls, filled with anxiety. He’d quickly adapted well to college life though, and he was popular as always, so he’d made friends easily, a few that he lived with, and a few from his course. That circle only grew when he joined the soccer club, and suddenly there were more friends, he was caught up in everything, his new life was everything. Not being at home helped him to get over the loss, not everything was a reminder anymore. 

But the first call came one night when he was alone in his room. 

Back then, it had meant nothing to Jeno, and it wouldn’t have ever meant anything if he didn’t know what he knew now. 

He’d been laying on his bed, with a textbook thrown on the sheets that he flicked through sleepily. It was late, and quiet. His room was on the ground floor, and that evening there hadn’t been much disturbance from outside. 

That was when his phone had started to ring, loudly from the back pocket of his jeans. 

He’d snatched it out and tossed it on the bed, staring at the number flashing on the screen. It wasn’t a number that he’d seen before, and so he tutted, and cut it off, shoving it back into his pocket and staring at the textbook. 

It happened again, many times. The next time he had been in the shower, and he’d been irked by the loud sound through the door. He didn’t answer it. 

A week of sporadic calls, and he couldn’t take it anymore. 

He had been at a party, with the blare of music and lights, and the alcohol had dizzied him, enough for him to pick up the call. 

“Hello?”, he shouted over the noise, and there was irritation in his voice. 

_The line was silent._

He sighed and cut the call off, walking off dismissively to a table to refill his drink. 

\--

There was another party, later in the year, and at that party there was a girl. 

His friends had disappeared, and he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t inebriated, the alcohol was in his system. The lights were turned off and the room was lit by coloured lamps around the edges. There was music, and crowds of people, but he’d seen her stumble towards him, a plastic cup clutched in her hand. Her face was new, she smiled at him coyly. 

“Pass me that bottle”, she shouted over the music, loudly, gesturing to the alcohol on the table. 

“What?”, Jeno had called back, laughing. 

She held the red cup out “pass me that bottle”, she repeated. 

Jeno took the bottle off the table and unscrewed the lid, she held the cup out and watched with a smile as he poured it for her. 

He focused on the purple top that was pulled tightly around her waist, then up to her face. 

“What’s your name?” She’d asked. 

“Jeno.” 

“I’m Jinhee.” 

She dragged him away to dance, and by the end of the night, they were making out on one of the couches in the corner of the room in the darkness, intoxicated, and that had been Jeno’s fourth kiss. He wasn’t proud of it, but it was what it was. 

Jinhee had given him her phone number, and they had met up, when they weren’t drunk. She made him laugh, they went on a few dates and one of those dates had ended in Jeno’s room, the two on his bed. 

She leant in and kissed him on the mouth, and it was awkward at first, but as she trailed her kisses lower, the sensations he felt were new. She took off his shirt, pulled it over his head slowly and ran a hand down his abdomen. Jinhee pushed him back on the bed and kissed over his bare chest, he kissed her neck, and then he’d wished it were Renjun. He hadn’t thought about him for so long, but he’d flushed when the idea had arisen, he longed for it to have been Renjun pressing the kisses across his skin. Jeno kept the thoughts there, but he never told her. He looked into her eyes and kissed her. 

Jeno lost his virginity that day, he didn’t know what he was doing, he didn’t know if Jinhee did either, but it was okay, it had been simply, alright. 

Their relationship had broken apart three months later, Jeno was never good at holding onto things. They ran out of words to say to each other and got bored, so she’d found someone else. 

He met a girl on his course in second year though, and he liked this girl a lot, he cared about her and they went to the same lectures, and then Jeno would stay at her place or she would go to his, they had so much to say to each other. He’d managed to convince himself that he was happy, he admired her, and she was loyal, but even that had ended. 

“You don’t love me.” She was crying, tears staining her cheeks. 

He didn’t know what to do, or what to say, somewhere even then, he knew that it was probably true. So he didn’t speak, but pulled her gently towards him into a hug, and she rested her head weakly on his shoulder. 

Then his phone rung, it never stopped, the sound was deafening over the silent sobs. 

_“That fucking phone, Jeno”_ , she cried into his shirt. She knew about the calls, but Jeno had already answered once, it was junk. 

She kept crying in between muffled sniffs against his shirt, so he slid the phone out of his pocket and switched it off, pulling her in closer and resting his chin on top of her head. 

They got back together for a while, but eventually it broke up, because she still said that Jeno didn’t love her, and maybe she was right, he didn’t know. 

He’d gotten the hang of sex by now, with girls, and they seemed to enjoy it too, but then there was the boy in the bar. The boy with eyes like Renjun, and he didn’t admit it at the time, but he knew they had drawn him in. They got talking, and Jeno had felt something, an attraction, if only physical, it was there. The sex had excited him, but it lacked emotion, and eventually he thought it pointless, they were worlds apart, he and the boy. 

There were times he thought about those relationships, and whenever he did, he couldn’t quite let go of his first love. From time to time he would reach into the drawer beside his bed and pull out the photo in the frame he still kept, and it would hurt all over again. He’d stroke a thumb over Renjun’s face, fondly. He wanted the captured scene to come alive, and then he could feel everything he had felt before and he would know the answers. He’d trace the space in the photo around Renjun’s neck, where the necklace would be if he had given it to him then. The two sixteen-year olds weren’t lost, they stayed smiling in the candid shot. _How long had it been now?_ It didn’t matter anymore. He just wished he could go back to when everything had made sense. 

At eighteen, and throughout the years that followed, Jeno dismissed the idea that he was in love with Renjun, he didn’t want those feelings anymore, they hurt too much. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...... I am,,, sorry :((  
> a lot more shall be revealed in the next chapter!!  
> Thank you for reading!! thoughts/ kudos are hugely appreciated!!  
> twitter: renjunfairydust  
> [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.qa/renjunfairydust)


	6. Chapter 6

At the age of sixteen, Renjun was on his own again. 

Renjun was alone that day in September, walking through the gates of Seoul national ballet school. He thought he’d spent most of his life alone, but now there really was nobody. 

As the building became closer, there was a part of him that wished to turn back and to run to Jeno. He missed him already. 

Those were the feelings that struck him as he stepped into the other world, he still recalled the school building from the day of his audition, when this had not felt real to him. Glancing at the ancient brickwork that covered it, gold lining its doorways, and the fountain in the grounds’ centre, he trudged closer to the doors. 

There were people milling around the courtyard, some sitting by the fountain with their bags, some still with their parents. He was aware of it all around him, but he kept walking past them, and pulled his phone out to snap a picture hastily - which he sent to Jeno. The phone was shoved back into his pocket and he smiled to himself. 

Renjun’s room was on the second floor - _29B_ \- he repeated the door number printed on his entrance guide, scanning the corridor until he located the room. 

Pushing the door open gently, he noticed the two beds, and the suitcase already strewn across one of them, _his roommate_. The case was a glaring red, garish, unzipped, and with clothing spilling from it onto the bedsheets. Renjun lugged his own suitcase onto the other bed and sat beside it, taking a moment to look around the space, a single wardrobe in one corner, and a mirror in the other. 

He jumped when the door burst open, elbows slipping off his knees and jolting him. In the doorway, there was a boy. He appeared to be the same age, with dark brown hair that was styled to meet the edge of his temple. He flicked it out of his eyes, and Renjun looked at the plastic cup in his hand, a red straw poking out of the top. 

“I guess you’re my roommate”, he said, grinning. The boy waited for Renjun to speak, but when there was no response, continued his ramblings. “I just went to check out the cafeteria downstairs”, he held up the drink, smiling broadly, “ _iced americano_ ”, he gestured to the door with the cup and then held it to the light, “not bad coffee, my name’s Jaemin by the way.” 

“I’m Renjun.” 

Jaemin looked around the room. “It’s a bit small, but it’s okay, isn’t it?” 

Renjun nodded but stayed silent as he watched the boy’s smile drop. 

“You’re quiet, are you okay?” 

“Yeah.” 

Jaemin laughed nervously and set the coffee on the table beside his bed, taking a t-shirt that had spilled out of his case and hanging it in the wardrobe. Renjun watched him repeat the action, taking a pair sweat pants and folding them into a drawer. He turned to inspect Renjun. “Aren’t you going to unpack?” 

Renjun nodded again and stood, unzipping his tattered suitcase. Silence followed in the minutes after that. 

“There’s a welcome talk in half an hour, we can go together”, Jaemin smiled, “if you want to.” 

Renjun eyed him, deciding ultimately, that the floppy haired boy with the wide smile was harmless. “Yeah.” 

In the hours that followed, Renjun found out a lot about Jaemin, because the other wanted to talk, and he didn’t mind listening. Jaemin was from Busan, his parents were rich, and he’d started ballet classes when he was five. His mother was into contemporary arts, and she felt ballet would be a good grounding for him, so she sent him to lessons, but he discovered he loved it, excelled, and now he was here, eleven years later, sitting beside Renjun in the grand hall among the sea of people that had already gathered for the talk. 

Renjun called Jeno later that day, in the evening, once the introductions were over. He finished unpacking and looked at Jaemin, laying on his bed with his phone resting on his stomach as he flicked through it silently. He didn’t want to share Jeno with anyone, not even Jaemin, so he slipped out the door, down the stairs and to the grounds outside. It was empty at night and the sky was already dark. Renjun sat beside the fountain, punching Jeno’s number into his phone and shivering slightly from the bitter air. There was a few muffled rings until Jeno picked up at the other end of the line. His fears washed away then, home felt distant, but hearing Jeno he was calmed. 

Throughout the call, he glanced at the school building. The lights had been left on in some rooms and he watched like an outsider, like one that didn’t belong in that world, so distant from home, and felt he was somewhere in between. 

\--

Lessons began two days later and there were other subjects, but most classes were dance. He could still recall the first ballet lesson, he couldn’t forget it. 

Their uniforms were all the same, a soft black leotard and loose sweats that matched. Renjun looked at Jaemin as they hovered at the entrance to the studio, he smiled, reaching for the handle of the door, and swinging it open. 

The room was already filled with students that had begun warming up. Renjun set his bag down, attention caught by one boy in particular. He was tall, with sharp cheekbones that shaped his face, and held a leg out in front of him, stretching as he gripped the end of his ballet shoe. Renjun kept staring as he let go and switched the leg, repeating the action with the second perfectly. 

“Sung Minseo.” 

Renjun listened to Jaemin, but he couldn’t look away. 

“I’ve heard about him”, Jaemin continued, “seen his face a few times, he’s meant to be the best of the best.” Renjun watched as Minseo placed his hand on the bar, stretching gracefully. “Companies are already trying to scout him, they want him on their books.” 

Minseo paused, turning to Renjun, and staring at him, with dark grey, piercing eyes. He smiled faintly and glided across the room, pirouetting once, and steadying himself. 

“I heard he’s a _show off_ too”, Jaemin huffed, throwing his bag down at the side of the room. 

Renjun followed him to the centre where most people had congregated, but he glanced at Minseo again. 

“Don’t worry about him, just focus on yourself”, Jaemin said. 

They started to warm up together, and moments later the door crashed and Renjun’s attention was drawn to it as a tall man stood in the entrance. 

“That’s Suh Youngho”, Jaemin whispered, leaning in close, “ _he’s renowned._ ” 

The man began to unpack his bag onto a table at the front of the room, a bottle of water, a clipboard, and a pen laid out. Renjun saw him snap the bag shut and sling it beside the table, turning to the class. He straightened his back and clapped once. 

_The room fell silent._

“It’s nice to see you all looking so attentive”, Youngho emphasised, “I expect it to _always_ be like that.” He clapped his hands abruptly again and then put them behind his back. “Find a place at the bar, I’m sure you’ve warmed up already.” 

Renjun grasped the metal fixed to the mirror, there were mirrors all around, on every wall, and from each angle he could see himself. Jaemin was beside him, and to his surprise Minseo had stood behind him. He watched discreetly as the other put his hand on the bar, but their stares met in the mirror. 

“ _Plié_ ”, Youngho called to the class, and they all followed, “ _Stretch_.” 

Minseo bent his knees, feet locked in first position. 

“ _Plié_ ”, Youngho repeated. 

Minseo smirked at Renjun. He froze as the dancers around him shifted positions, changed to another, he hadn’t noticed the direction. 

“ _Frappé_ ”, Jaemin mouthed, and Renjun extended a leg in front of him instantly. 

“Thanks”, he laughed. 

_The room went quiet again._

Renjun looked up, Youngho was glaring at him. If he could curl up and disappear, he would have, because the scenes that followed were humiliating. 

Youngho walked towards him slowly, everyone was staring, the whole class had stopped. “What’s your name?” 

“Huang Renjun.” He could feel the eyes on him, and he hated it. He clasped his hands together, as he did whenever he was nervous. 

“ _Huang Renjun_ , do you want to succeed?” 

Renjun swallowed, “yes, sir.” 

“Then, why were you talking?” 

“I’m sorry.” Renjun lowered his gaze to the floor, feeling the faint sting of tears stem from his throat up to the corners of his eyes. He blinked them away to save his last strain of dignity. 

“I expect full attention”, Youngho continued, striding to the front of the room, “that goes for all of you. This isn’t just a hobby anymore, this is your life now.” He paused to fold his arms, “you all thought you were the best where you were, well, you’ve got a long way to go. This is different, you’re at the bottom of the ladder now. I expect you to work hard and be committed if you want to succeed. I hope we are clear on that.” He looked at Renjun, caught his eye, “we don’t produce _failures_ here.” 

Renjun turned to Minseo and glared at him, but the other only smirked tauntingly. 

He’d laid on his bed that evening, with his back pressed against the sheets, and stared blankly at the ceiling. The thought of calling Jeno that night made him afraid, that if he did he might finally cry about what had happened. 

Instead of calling Jeno, he got up and left the room, walked to one of the studios that had been left open. Switching on the lights, they glared in his face, Renjun saw the ballet shoes he’d taken from beside his bed, sliding them on carefully. The sound as they hit the wooden floor echoed, and soon he was dancing by himself, because there were no failures here. Dancing made him feel like he was floating, the raw type of dancing when no one else was there, when it was just him and his ballet shoes, and he understood the thrill all over again. 

In those moments he was certain he had made the right choice. 

He called Jeno the next day when everything felt better. 

Renjun knew he needed to work to catch up, some students had been training for this their whole lives, with rich parents and expensive schooling. So he stayed in the practise room at night sometimes, because he wanted to be as good as everyone else. The evenings blurred, they were usually the same, repeating the dance moves that Youngho had presented them with that day. 

There was one time that always persisted in his mind, and maybe it made more sense in retrospect but then, Renjun had not known what to make of it. 

He had felt eyes on him, cold eyes, eyes like ice, and when he’d turned, Minseo had been leant against the door frame watching him. Renjun had stopped still, matching the ice in his eyes, and staring at him, but Minseo had not said a word. 

Instead he had nodded, turned, and walked away silently. 

Two weeks following that, in between lessons and rushed practises, Jaemin had taken Renjun to watch a ballet on stage. 

It was the first time he’d ever seen it live, and it took his breath away. 

He was awed by Seoul’s night life, the bright lights that covered the city’s west end. It was different from when he had come here with Jeno, Seoul seemed to come alive at night, and the streets were busy with people waiting outside the different theatres. 

That day was the first time he fell in love with Seoul. _One day it would become home, but it wasn’t yet._

He had been starstruck by the lights, and as they took their places in the plush seats to the left of the stage, Renjun’s eyes had widened. The lights dimmed, the dancers came on stage gradually, and it was all so different from the tiny ten-year-old boy that had found a dusty tape and hidden it at the back of his closet. They moved, like lotus petals as they stepped gracefully across the stage. 

He decided again that he wanted to be like them. Jaemin turned and smiled at him, he smiled back, as though they were sharing the same thought. 

\--

Renjun knew that as the months passed, he called Jeno less. 

He thought it was okay, because they still phoned each other, and Renjun still told him about the good parts. 

He’d got a job, and that filled most of the time he wasn’t dancing, he hadn’t realised just how tiring waiting tables would be, serving customers and stumbling back and forth from the kitchens with trays of food after nine hours of practise and sore, blistered feet. 

That month, in class, they learnt the splits. A lot of people could already do it, _Minseo could of course_ , and he’d grinned at Renjun as he sat on the floor, Youngho behind him, pushing a palm flat onto his back, trying to touch the floor with his head in between his outstretched legs. He gasped and felt the ache of pain across his thighs, trying to stifle the sound, but it came out as a muffled cry and he tried harder to widen his legs. He held the position, biting his lip, but his body went slack, and Youngho let go, sighing and walking to another student to help them. 

“You need to work on that if you’re going to be as good as everyone else”, Minseo shot from next to him. 

“What is your problem?”, Renjun growled. 

“I’m just trying to help you.” 

Renjun stood up. “You can help me by leaving me alone.” He walked to Jaemin, who was with others on the opposite side of the room. 

Renjun stayed late in the studio again that evening, trying to do the splits, and Jaemin had joined him as the sky through the window got darker, with two sandwiches clasped in his hands. He offered one to Renjun, who took it gratefully, biting into the soft bread and humming as he wiped the corner of his mouth where crumbs had stuck. 

“You’re overworking yourself”, Jaemin commented as he bit into his own sandwich. 

“Maybe”, Renjun replied, putting the sandwich back into the packet, “but I need to. I’m nearly there”, he paused, glancing at Jaemin. “Can you do it yet?” 

“Do what?” 

“The splits.” 

Jaemin hesitated, eventually settling for a low sigh, “yes, I can.” 

He had stayed with Renjun for the next three hours, until he had perfected it, until the tears and the pain had paid off. The splits was a small victory, but he could claim it as his to keep. 

He went to his bedroom that night, exhausted and spent, and pulled out his phone, typing a message to Jeno, but his eyelids fell heavy. 

He’d fallen asleep, the phone sliding onto the bed still holding the unsent text. 

\--

Renjun only improved after that, he triumphed a lot, over others, and steps were becoming easier to follow, people were watching him for all the right reasons. 

_But being perfect came at a cost._ He had been in the studios one lunchtime practising with Jaemin, and everything had been fine, until Renjun started to see the spots of black forming in his vision, the darkness that crept from the corners of eyes and clouded everything, he couldn’t see himself in the mirror anymore. 

_He dropped to the floor._

It was only momentary, but he landed on his side, winded. Jaemin turned on his heel and ran to him, slung an arm around his shoulder and hauled him to the cafeteria, dazed and dizzy. They sat at one of the tables in the busy café, and Minseo had been at a stall nearby. Jaemin left and Renjun was sure he had been staring at him, but he didn’t have time to ponder the thought, Jaemin returning holding an apple and a flimsy plastic cup filled with water. He set them down on the table. 

“Eat”, he demanded. Renjun picked up the fruit obediently, biting into it, the sweetness easing the ache in his head, and he took small sips from the cup in between. 

“Are you ill?”, Jaemin fussed, feeling Renjun’s forehead, “you feel fine.” 

“Is he alright?”, Renjun heard Minseo say to Jaemin when he’d put his head in his hands to will the dizzy sensation away. He hadn’t seen Minseo’s face, but for once the comment didn’t hold its usual venom. 

“Yeah, he’s fine”, Jaemin bit back, dismissing him. 

Jeno called Renjun later, and that time it didn’t feel good, because he missed him. He’d already refused Jeno’s offer to come to Seoul, because he knew what Jeno would find, and he was afraid what he might think. 

“How was your day?”, Jeno asked down the line. 

Renjun touched the pendants on the necklace, the slivery moon, and the star, he never took it off. “It was fine”, he lied. 

\--

The calls with Jeno got less frequent, and the ones with his mother even less so. 

She did call sometimes, or he would call her, like he was now, that night in his room. He wasn’t sure why, it was not because he wanted to, but he felt like he should, maybe somewhere he knew that she needed it. It was February, the snow could be see through the window falling steadily, and the thought of facing the chill had not been something he’d wanted, so he stayed on his bed, dialling the number into his phone and holding it tentatively up to his ear. 

It rung six times until the line at the other end crackled and a voice spoke hoarsely. 

“Hello?”, she rasped- _it sounded as though he had woken her up_. 

“Mom.” 

He saw Jaemin glance at him quickly, frowning, but he returned to scrolling through his phone. 

“Renjun”, she rushed, “how are you?” 

“I’m okay.” 

“It’s so good to hear from you”, she paused, “I miss you.” 

_The line was silent._

“Are you enjoying yourself?”, she tried. 

“I’m fine”, Renjun grinned, but it dulled as he spoke. “How are you mom?” 

“I’m alright.” 

“What have you been doing?” 

“Not a lot”, she rushed, and he knew she was lying. They were lying to each other, maybe it was a trait he’d picked up from her, pretending things were fine when they weren’t. 

“Have you had much work recently?” 

“No”, her voice cracked, “but it’s okay.” 

He hummed softly, looking at Jaemin again, but the other didn’t seem to be paying much attention. 

That night made him realise how distant he felt from his mother, from everything that reminded him of home, and from Jeno too now. Everything had moved so rapidly, that he didn’t have a chance to think about any of that. Kissing Jeno seemed like a lifetime ago from where he was now, sitting beside the riverbank together, his head on Jeno’s shoulder, maybe that wasn’t his life anymore, he wasn’t sure if it had ever been. 

Renjun couldn’t remember the last time he’d spoken to Jeno, and as he ended the call with his mother and scrolled through the contacts on his phone, he thought perhaps he should call him now, that everything would be alright if he did. He touched the necklace again where the pendants had bunched by his collarbone, a fleeting brush of fingertips, but it calmed his thoughts. He didn’t know what he would say to Jeno now, if he were to call him, because Jeno would question how he was, and he knew he couldn’t lie like he could to his mother. Jeno always knew when he was lying. 

He threw the phone down on the mattress, _he would call Jeno tomorrow_ , or when something good happened, he just couldn’t right then. 

Renjun tried to picture Jeno’s face, the warm eyes, and the soft skin, but the image wasn’t as sharp as it had once been. 

\--

The day Renjun turned seventeen, he had not told anyone. 

Jeno called him though, and he’d relished the sound of it, but the conversation was short and when it ended, he was left feeling even emptier than he had already. 

He waited until the evening to tell Jaemin, when they’d been talking in the dark at night, both laying in their beds. 

“It’s my birthday today.” 

He heard Jaemin sit up, the sheets rustling as he exhaled. “Why didn’t you tell me?” 

Renjun shrugged, _he didn’t think that it was important._

When he woke up the next morning, Jaemin wasn’t there, but there was a card beside his bed with a picture of a candle on the front of it. Renjun snatched it off the side and opened it. 

_Happy second day of being seventeen! – Jaemin._

Renjun smiled and closed the card, taking a drawing pin from inside his desk and sticking it into the empty pinboard above his bed. 

The card stayed there for the rest of the year, and through the second one, until he left, and even then he had taken it with him. 

\--

As the year ended, Renjun sparsely received calls from Jeno, and he hardly called him back. 

Youngho had told them that there would be a production in the second year. Renjun had learnt by now that the ballet school was famous for its productions, and Youngho was famous for making them run smoothly. 

_“Swan lake.”_ Youngho’s voice boomed. 

Renjun glanced at Minseo, he couldn’t help it. He was not watching him though, focused on the board that Youngho was currently scribbling on with an inky black marker pen. 

“As you all know, the pinnacle of your two years here will be in _this_ show”, he gestured to the board, “auditions for the main roles will start in three weeks.” Youngho picked up a clipboard. “I’ll be leaving this at the front of the class for today’s session and after that it will be on the back of my office door. Write your name and the part you’d be interested in taking in the boxes provided.” He set it down again. “Those of you that aren’t assigned a named role will take your place in the ensemble.” 

Small murmurs erupted from around the room then, but Renjun saw Minseo glare at him, standing up, and striding straight to the clipboard to scribble a few words on the page before he returned to his seat. 

“I think you should try for the prince”, Jaemin said casually, breaking Renjun out of his trance. 

He laughed dismissively and stared back at Minseo. 

At the end of the class, he wrote his name down. 

\--

Once Renjun had fixated on the idea, it felt like there was nothing else, not even Jeno, only the swan’s prince. He practised every day the same way for the next three weeks. It was exhausting, but dancing always took him away from problems, and this time he almost felt relieved that it was taking him away from Jeno, it was just him and the prince, where they could become one. 

The night that he couldn’t find the necklace, he had thought it some sort of twisted punishment, that it had been taken away from him for feeling that relief. It was the part of Jeno that Renjun felt he could still grasp, yet when he had gone to feel for it around his neck, he was met only with the soft skin in the dip between his collarbones. 

His heart dropped immediately, and he shot up from the bed, throwing everything off the table beside it in search of the chain. The clock fell to the carpet, but he paid it no heed, pulling open the drawers beneath it, tugging at the handle of each one and fumbling frantically inside it. 

The necklace was not there, and by the time Jaemin opened the door to the room, Renjun was shaking, still rummaging in the drawers in case he had somehow missed it. 

_“I can’t find it!”_ , he shouted urgently, tossing papers off his desk. 

“What?” 

_“My chain”_ , Renjun rushed, _“it’s gone._ ” 

There was a moment of stagnant silence, and finally Renjun turned, seeing Jaemin reach into the carpet at the end of his bed and pick out the silver chain from the floor. He walked to Renjun and placed it in one of his hands carefully, putting the free hand on his shoulder. Renjun’s breathing was still unsteady, and it rattled from his chest as he registered the cold metal against his palm. “Calm down”, Jaemin said quietly and Renjun exhaled, glancing at the necklace. “I think you’re too worked up about this audition.” 

Renjun nodded weakly, sitting on the bed and fixing the necklace back around his neck. “I think maybe I am.” 

He felt for the chain, assured that it was there - it felt nothing like Jeno. 

\--

The evening before the audition, Renjun had practised into the night, until the moonlight shone shadows onto his form as he leapt across the empty studio, the mirrors holding his silhouette as the hours passed. 

Jaemin had broken him out of his routine, appearing in the door with two cups, one in each hand. 

“Still up?”, he mused. 

“Just about.” 

“Coffee”, Jaemin offered, holding out one of the cups. 

Renjun took it gratefully, “thanks.” 

They sat on the floor beside the window after that, and Renjun looked out at the skyline of Seoul. The sun had set long ago, and the buildings were towering shadows against the school as the moon cast its light onto them. Renjun pulled his knees up to his chest and sipped from the cup, the warm liquid comforting as it slipped down his throat. He took another sip in quick succession and saw the skyline again, the stars that broke through the darkness there too, and it sparked something inside him. 

He drank and willed the feeling away. 

“How are you feeling?” 

“Nervous.” Renjun turned from the view, staring at Jaemin through the dusk. The boy’s hair had fallen into his eyes where it hadn’t been styled that day, and he was smiling patiently. “Jaemin?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Why aren’t you going for it?”, he asked, “why aren’t you auditioning?” 

All Jaemin did was chuckle, and push the hair off his forehead, his eyes sparkled. “The competition’s too tough”, he grinned. 

Renjun couldn’t hold back his laughter, but it dulled quickly, and he looked out of the window again. “Don’t get your hopes up for me, I’m pretty sure Minseo’s going to take this one, he always does.” 

“Everyone knows it’s between you two.” 

“He’s better than me.” 

“I’m not so sure about that”, Jaemin sipped again. “No one’s got form like you.” 

Renjun felt the same feeling he had felt when he saw the stars, like something was missing. He recoiled as the feeling turned to genuine pain in his chest, a tightening ache. He touched the necklace, instinctively, and he saw Jaemin’s eyes fall to it. 

“Is it special?” Jaemin nodded to the necklace. 

“I guess you could say that.” Renjun pulled his knees closer to his chest, “a friend gave it to me.” He didn’t look at Jaemin, he watched the sky instead, eyes flicking between the stars and the roads below, with the void in between. He was aware that it had fallen silent, but he kept staring through the glass. 

“It’s someone you love”, Jaemin stated. 

Renjun looked at him with doleful, hurt eyes, like a secret had been uncovered. “Yeah”, he replied shortly, shoulders slumping. 

“What are they like?” 

Renjun turned to the window, forcing a laugh, “he likes stars.” He choked on the words. “He was the most amazing person that I’ve ever met.” 

“Was?” 

Renjun frowned, “is?” _He didn’t know._

“What happened?” 

“I don’t know”, Renjun answered dejectedly and rested his chin on his knees, shutting his eyes for a moment as he thought about Jeno’s face finally. It was even less sharp than it had been before, “he feels so far away now, it’s like I knew him in a different lifetime.” 

When Renjun opened his eyes, there were tears in them, tears that he hadn’t known would be there, tears that blurred Jaemin out of focus, but he held them in. “I miss him.” 

In seconds Jaemin had stood up, walked to Renjun slowly and put a hand on his back, drawing him in. Renjun rested his head on Jaemin’s shoulder. 

“Why don’t you just try to talk to him?”, Jaemin mumbled into his shirt. 

“I don’t think he wants to talk to me.” Renjun lifted his head, wiping his eyes with the sleeve of his shirt and sniffing. “I don’t know what I would say to him if I did, it’s me that messed everything up.” 

Jaemin hugged him again, and his chin rested on Renjun’s shoulder. “Put it to the back of your mind for now, just for tomorrow so you aren’t distracted, and then you can sort something out.” Jaemin looked at Renjun’s face, “you need to rest.” 

Jaemin went back to their room to sleep, and Renjun said he would follow shortly. 

He watched the sun rise instead. 

\--

He had not called Jeno, and the day that results had been taped to the back of the studio door, Renjun only had Jaemin by his side. The other was the first to see it, and he’d thrown his arms around Renjun. 

“You did it!” 

Renjun peered behind him at the paper. 

_Huang Renjun- the swan’s prince._

He read the words, they were still printed there in typed black font. A strange sense of catharsis washed over him, but he glanced over Jaemin’s shoulder, Minseo glaring at him. 

When everyone had dispersed from the doorway, Renjun snatched the paper, pulled the pin out from the board, and took the sheet into one of the practice rooms. He slid down the wall, body colliding with the floor and he felt the relief again, it rushed over him, like euphoria. 

_The swan_. The swan was everything to him, pure, and beautiful, and he was its prince - his hard work had paid off. 

He put his head in his hands, exhausted, and pressed his palms hard against his face where tears might have been if he had the heart to form them. 

“ _I’m sorry Jeno, I’m sorry_ ”, he murmured to himself. “ _I’m sorry_ ”, he said again. 

He gripped the paper tighter and smiled, because the dream was falling into place, but when he looked up his heart sank, and a shadow blocked his view of the doorway. He blinked, dazed, the figure coming into focus. 

“ _Congratulations_ ”, Minseo spat. 

Renjun scrambled to his feet, shoving the paper into his bag and zipping it closed. “Thanks”, he rushed. He started to walk to the door, his shoulder hitting Minseo’s as he barged past, palm placed on the handle. 

“What did you do to get that then?” 

Renjun stopped, letting go of the metal and turning to him. “I’m sorry, I don’t know what you mean”, he said with new venom. 

Minseo laughed, _a cruel laugh_ , “don’t be so naïve”, he scoffed at Renjun and walked closer, “I’m not surprised they loved you”, he sneered. 

“I’m not like that.” Renjun’s voice was fire, he put his hand on the door again to leave, but a thought stopped him. He turned and balled a fist. “I got it through hard work.” 

Minseo laughed, as though the outburst amused him. “Everyone said I was going to get that part”, he paused, “you are good though, you’ve got something I’ve not seen before.” 

The two of them weren’t far away from each other now, and Renjun’s grip on his bag had loosened, he was staring at Minseo, at the way his eyes changed from unusual softness to fire, flickering, anger to dismay, he couldn’t stop watching them. 

“It’s always been me or you Renjun, nobody ever came close, me and you, we’re the ones people watch. Maybe I got complacent, my position was always certain and then you came out of nowhere and everyone started watching you”, he hesitated, “I did too.” 

There was tension in the air, intensity. Renjun looked at Minseo’s face, into his eyes, searching for some meaning behind his words, but the other only came closer. 

“I hate you, I hate you so much, you’ve taken it from me”, he spat desperately. “What is it? What is it that you have, I can’t get you out of my head.” 

Renjun didn’t know what he was doing. He leant in without hesitation, so did Minseo, and their lips crashed together in a frenzy, there was nothing soft about it, it was fuelled by anger, and Renjun’s hands grabbed at the figure in front of him, pulling at the black t shirt that Minseo was wearing. Even now it was a competition, Renjun pulled him backwards and hit the wall of the practice room, Minseo tugging his hair, shoving his head further backwards. 

Renjun broke away first, when he had come to his senses, when the world around him felt like reality again. 

_The swan’s prince was tainted._

“That was a mistake”, Renjun hissed through his teeth and shoved Minseo backwards, running out of the room without looking behind him. 

He hated himself, he couldn’t call Jeno now, he thought that he might have if he had got the lead role, but he didn’t know how he could ever face him after that. 

\--

He never told anyone about what had happened with Minseo, he knew every part of him wanted to forget. 

Three days after the results had come out, they had gone out to a club to celebrate, Renjun, Jaemin and a few close friends from the class. 

The club was dimly lit and noisy, there was dancing and people hooking up in dark corners. He was used to that now though, he hadn’t realised that sex would be everywhere in ballet school, beautiful people with beautiful bodies, it was inevitable, but he hadn’t got himself involved in any casual hook ups. 

There had come a point in the evening where everyone had started to drink, and they ordered alcohol to the table. Renjun had only stared at the glass, but they all wanted him to try it, he never had before, but he didn’t tell any of them that. 

As he lifted the glass to his lips he could smell the alcohol, and it was familiar, the fumes made him dizzy, but he drank it, and all he could think about were the bottles that had been hidden behind the kettle in his childhood, and it made the room spin. 

He slammed the glass back onto the table and ran to the bathroom. 

The stalls were empty, and he darted into the nearest cubicle. He heaved, gasping for air, but noticing the loud crash from behind the door and footsteps that got closer. 

“Renjun?” 

He knew it was Jaemin’s voice, but he couldn’t turn around, still leant over the toilet bowl. Jaemin knelt carefully beside him and placed a hand on his back. He threw up again, and this time Jaemin pushed his hair off of his forehead as he lay against the other’s chest. 

“It’s alright”, Jaemin said calmly, but he felt humiliated. 

“I hate it”, Renjun said weakly, waiting for Jaemin to ask more, but he didn’t. Jaemin held his arm, and they stood. 

“Let’s go home.” 

Returning to their room, Renjun sat on the bed and watched Jaemin slip his jacket off and hang it on the back of the door. He followed and undid the buttons of the cotton shirt he’d worn, it fell open. 

“My mother is an alcoholic.” 

Jaemin stopped still in front of him. 

“I got into this school on a scholarship, and without it I wouldn’t have been able to come here. I just thought I would tell you the truth.” 

“I’m sorry.” Jaemin sighed and leant next to him on the bed, taking Renjun’s dirtied shirt from beside him. He walked to their bathroom and slung it inside, returning a few moments later and looking at Renjun. “Sleep”, he murmured. 

Renjun slipped his jeans off, feeling for his phone in the back pocket, but it was not there. He considered panicking, but he was too numb to worry at the time. 

After that he didn’t have a phone for a while, until he could afford to buy a new one, with a new number. 

There were no more calls from Jeno, but Renjun had committed Jeno’s number to memory, and he had saved it into the new phone. He wanted to tell Jeno, and he kept up his attempts to message him, but every time he thought of something that he might want to say, he deleted it again, because no words felt like the right words. 

\--

Renjun’s second year at ballet school was consumed by training for the production, and he loved it, but it was tough, and there was no room for mistakes. 

_“Stop.”_

Renjun let go of Eunbi’s waist, _the swan_ \- he had known her since last term, although they weren’t in many classes together and they hadn’t talked much. She looked at Renjun with wide eyes, and then to Youngho, sat in a chair at the front of the room. 

“There’s no passion”, Youngho directed at Renjun. “You’ve got no flare, you’re just dancing.” 

Renjun tried the move again, and again, again, but it still had no passion. 

Youngho walked towards him and raised Renjun’s arm so it extended out in front of him, he lifted his leg into the correct position instinctively. 

“You need to feel it when you dance.” Youngho let go of the arm and it stayed suspended as Renjun glanced at him. “I know you know the moves, but that’s all they are right now.” 

Renjun tried with a poised foot and straightened back, _to dance with passion._

He raised an arm. 

_“Imagine that the whole crowd is watching you.”_ , he heard Youngho say. 

He raised Eunbi in the air. 

_“No one cares about you if your formation looks like that.”_

Renjun stilled, breathless and heaving for the air he had lost. 

“Do what you need to do to feel it”, Youngho folded his arms and sighed, “You’re in danger of losing that role, go and get changed, both of you.” 

\--

Renjun needed to find the passion, and he didn’t know where to find it. 

He was alone in the studio that evening, another night spent in the darkness. Jaemin had fallen asleep hours ago, but Renjun found that late nights were rather productive for him, with moonlight shining in through the window of the large room on the fourth floor. 

He danced, and he was comforted by the stars that followed, like they were watching him. 

_The swan’s prince._

He thought about the swan, and how he could become it, to find the passion. He thought about how he held Eunbi, she was soft in his hands, light to touch. 

Renjun kicked his foot, frustrated, angry, like he could tear down the walls of the practice room, but sat beside the windowsill, alone, because his dancing had no passion. He touched the pendants on his neck - that always helped, but this time they felt like hot iron, and the sting made him wince and retract the touch. 

_Jeno._

When had he last thought about Jeno? He was unsure, maybe Jeno was always there in his mind. The first thing he had lost was the image of Jeno, but it was sad, now he couldn’t emulate the feeling of him either, he’d forgotten what it was like to touch Jeno, to be touched by Jeno, to be held by him. 

He stood again, inspired, and let himself think about Jeno, if only for those small seconds, but in them he was dancing for Jeno, and all at once there was too much passion. It hurt, but it also felt beautiful, to be dancing for him. 

As he moved, the first tears he had cried for a long time fell down his face and he saw them catch the moonlight in the mirror, it made him remember. He remembered how Jeno’s face had caught the moonlight the night that they kissed, and it hurt again. The tears turned to loud sobs, wails, but he kept dancing, _no one could hear him._

He ended the night laying on the floor of the studio, with his chest heavy and heaving. 

Looking to the left, he saw himself in a mirror, he looked to the right and he saw himself in another one, so he closed his eyes. 

He realised then that he was not the swan, neither was Eunbi, _Jeno was_. 

Jeno had always been his muse. 

\--

The next day Renjun had danced beautifully. 

He’d walked into the studio early in the morning, and Youngho had already been in there. 

Renjun slammed his bag down by the door and strode to the centre of the room, staring until Youngho stopped what he was doing, dropping papers and turning. 

“I practised the coda last night”, Renjun stated plainly. 

“Show me.” 

Renjun danced the coda, with the same thoughts of Jeno, with the same thoughts of dancing for Jeno, and he couldn’t help the smug smile, the one where he knew he had a secret that was only his, a secret that no one else had the privilege of knowing. 

Renjun had always hated Youngho until that day because that day changed him forever. He had to thank him. 

After Renjun had danced, Youngho walked to him and put a hand on his shoulder. 

“You’ve done it”, he said, and smiled. Renjun wasn’t sure if he’d ever seen Youngho smile before. “Where did you find the passion?” 

Jeno was Renjun’s secret, and as he looked at Youngho with dull eyes and stayed silent, he thought that the man understood that. 

Youngho shook his head. “It doesn’t matter where you found it.” 

“I don’t understand.” 

“What?” 

“You hate me”, Renjun replied, “why did you give me the role?” 

Youngho laughed, a soft, kind laugh. “I don’t hate you, you’re one of the best students I’ve ever had.” He smiled again, “we can’t all start out the best, but you have natural talent.” 

Renjun furrowed his brow, nothing made sense, so he stayed silent. 

“Every time I pushed you, you did it, you worked for it, so I pushed you harder, because I knew you would do it again, and it worked.” Youngho took a few steps away from Renjun. “Your potential is phenomenal, you just need someone to bring it out for you.” 

That was the day that Renjun felt that he finally understood Youngho, and decided he did not hate him, because he had helped him to understand himself. 

\--

The day of the show had been one of the best days of Renjun’s life. 

The stage had been lit for him, and he had danced immaculately, it cleared his head, meant that he thought about nothing else but the serene feeling of dancing. It was beautiful, and trance like, the pain, the effort, and how it mixed. 

The audience had loved him, that’s what he was told, that’s what they said on the broadcast afterwards too, that he was loved. 

The dancing gave him a moment of clarity, like he was leaving ballet school behind, because soon he would be, and in that moment of clarity, he had thought about Jeno again. That was probably why he’d said what he’d said on live television. Fate had always been on their side since they met, and so Renjun thought that Jeno could have been watching. 

He knew what he had said, and he hoped that Jeno did too. It had been two years since he had seen Jeno, but it felt like longer. All the time through school, Jeno had become a figure to Renjun, almost imaginary, but he was still the driving force of his life. 

After he had graduated, Renjun left ballet school behind forever, with promises to see Jaemin again. Jaemin got a contract with a dance company, not the same one as Renjun, it was the other side of Seoul. 

Renjun was wanted by so many dance companies because he was the swan’s prince. It was expected, so he chose one, the best one in the city, a five-year contract, he’d achieved his dream, he told himself that - _they even called him the boy with stars in his eyes, because he had ambition._

When he was nineteen, Renjun convinced himself that his life was laid out on a path in front of him, that he knew where he was going, he hadn’t realised how lost he was. 

Graduation shattered the world he had created, and Jeno became real again, the euphoria was gone, and the pain was back. He wondered where Jeno was, because he always promised that he would come to Seoul, to find Renjun. Jeno’s phone number taunted him, he wanted to tell Jeno everything that had happened, and about the years they had missed together. 

He dialled the number one night, it rang – and cut off. 

There was a sense of relief, because speaking to Jeno would be terrifying, but he tried again, two days later. He kept trying, and the phone kept ringing, and ringing with empty silences every time the line stopped. 

One time, the phone had not rung for long, and Renjun had heard the crackle at the other end of the line, blaring noise, loud, intrusive music, and voices that weren’t Jeno’s, laughter and shouting. 

_“Hello?”_

Renjun knew it was Jeno, and without realising he felt the tears in his eyes. He hadn’t ever thought about what he would do if Jeno ever picked up, so he did nothing except smile softly, because Jeno was okay. 

He let a tear slide down his face, that was all. 

Jeno tutted, and Renjun wanted to laugh, but he also wanted to cry, because he had lost his chance. 

He still didn’t have the heart to cut the call off, but it was okay, because Jeno did it for him, and then there was silence. 

\--

Renjun lived in a block of apartments next to the dance studios the company owned. The other dancers lived there too. The company was strict, there were a lot of things Renjun could and couldn’t do, _rules_. 

He turned twenty, and throughout that year, started to take the lead roles in productions, his manager got him a trainer, and he still remembered the day he met Insung for the first time. 

He had walked into the studio, and Insung had been there. Renjun already knew who he was, Insung was one of the best ballet coaches in the country. He had been an aspiring dancer years ago, but he had landed badly in a show, and because of that he had a reoccurring back injury. 

Renjun looked at him now, he seemed to be somewhere in his twenties, and he was tall, with dark black hair that was neatly parted on one side, immaculately styled. His calves were exposed by the sweatpants he had rolled up to just below his knee. Renjun glanced at them, and hearing the noise of the door, Insung turned, smiling. 

“You must be Renjun”, he said, and Renjun nodded politely, still a little starstruck by the man’s aura. “I’m Insung”, he continued, walking over and extending a hand. Renjun shook it firmly. “They tell me you have stars in your eyes”, Insung laughed, and peered at Renjun’s figure, “good form”, he murmured, snapping his fingers, “put your stuff down, let’s get warmed up.” 

Renjun dropped his bag beside the door quietly and began to stretch. He was aware that Insung had faced away and was now shuffling papers on the desk at the front of the room- it must have been Renjun’s portfolio, he thought as he reached for his toes. Once he had finished his warm up, Insung turned around. 

“Let’s start with the basics, so I can see your skill level.” 

Insung watched as Renjun formed an arabesque. 

“Hold it”, he said, fingers resting on his chin as he stared at the formation, “relax”, he finished and Renjun untensed his muscles, dropping his arm back to his side. “Fouetté”, Insung instructed, “I want to see your centre of balance.” 

Renjun turned on one foot, and then again, with an arm above his head. 

“That’s good, nice”, Insung mused, taking Renjun’s arm and raising it higher. “Do it again.” 

Once they had covered what Insung deemed to be the basics, he had asked Renjun to dance how he liked to dance, he’d said that consideration of the dancer’s own style and technique was important, and so Renjun had danced, the way that he liked to dance, and Insung had watched him with careful concentration and folded arms, Renjun had liked that. 

“Okay, now come over here.” Insung beckoned him towards the desk at the end of the training session and he had sat down. They’d reviewed the lesson and worked out a training plan, Insung knew where Renjun needed to focus. He told him that he should work on his core and toning, to build up muscle for strength, and after that there were many sessions in the gym, accompanied by Insung. They spent most of their time together, trainer and trainee, it was all about being physical, it had to be. 

Renjun pulled a weight up, and his muscles burned, they were on fire, and Insung was counting with him, encouraging him to keep going. He found that he liked Insung, because Insung was safety, and he didn’t have to think much when he was with him, everything was about training. 

“Take off your shirt”, Insung had said casually one day in the practice room. 

“What?” 

“Take off your shirt”, Insung repeated, pointing at Renjun’s chest. “You need to see how your muscles are developing when you dance, how your body moves.” He turned to Renjun. “A dancer’s instrument is his body, his canvas”, he stated, “you need to understand it, you need to know every inch of it, every muscle, every ligament.” 

Renjun looked at Insung, and pulled off his shirt, slinging it to the side. He stared at his slender form in the mirror, saw where the curves of his waist met with his ribs, and where the muscle had formed on his stomach. He hadn’t realised how much he had changed and as he stepped more, he saw the muscle again. 

He spent the session like that, hours dancing in front of the mirror, and getting to know his body as it turned and spun, it felt freeing. 

He’d formed a plié, Insung walked to him, placing a hand gently on the small of his back, and straightening it. Renjun felt the touch, he was sensitive to it, it was a touch he’d felt so many times before but something about skin on skin made it feel different. He was sure that there were goose bumps pricking on his skin, and he shivered, a feeling swirled in his stomach, a thrill, he wasn’t sure. 

Insung retracted the hand instantly and coughed quietly. “That’s all for today”, he said and started to walk away, “I need to go now.” 

Renjun broke out of his trance, snapping his shirt off the floor and throwing it over his head. He pushed his arms through the sleeves, still a little bewildered and he watched as Insung grabbed his bag and threw it over his shoulder. 

\--

Renjun started wanting to please Insung, because he liked the praise, he liked that it made him feel good, it gave him something to focus on. 

He had played the lead in the last show that the company had put on, and there had been a party to celebrate its success, at a penthouse apartment in the centre of Seoul that the company had hired. Insung had been there, dressed in a formal suit and a tie, like Renjun was too, and at first he had been distracted by the other. Renjun saw how handsome he looked, and he felt something again, an attraction, perhaps a pull towards him, but somewhere in the night, he had lost sight of Insung among the dazzling lights and expensive cocktails, and he had ended up alone. In the shadows on the balcony outside, he loitered. 

He could still hear the distant sound of music emanating from inside the venue, it rung through the air outside, but he stared at the trees that lined the grounds below, looked at each one carefully, inspected it. It was autumn, and the branches were bare without the leaves that were scattered along the pathways. 

His head rose when he heard loud footsteps, and he turned, seeing Insung a few feet away. The man smiled kindly at Renjun, sitting beside him on the bench and looking at the side of his face. 

“You alright?”, he asked, “everyone’s looking for you, they want to see the star of the show.” 

“I don’t want to see them”, Renjun shot back bluntly, resting his chin on his palm. 

“You’ll freeze if you stay out here all night.” 

“I’ll be fine”, Renjun replied, turning to Insung. The man’s hair was pushed off his face, and Renjun thought that it made him even more attractive. “I’m not like any of those people.” 

Insung eyed his suit, smiling, and his eyes were warm. “Well, you look the part at least.” 

Renjun sighed, “are you enjoying this?” 

“Not at all”, Insung laughed, “but it’s all part of it, getting your face seen, you have to work the social circle.” 

_To succeed_ , Renjun added in his head, and he sighed dejectedly. 

“Come with me”, Insung said suddenly. “I’ll show you how it’s done.” 

Renjun stuck by Insung like glue for the rest of the evening everywhere he went, Insung guided him, with his hand on the small of Renjun’s back, and he felt protected. He put his trust in Insung, and the man introduced him to important people. Renjun learnt from him. 

\--

There was one training session that changed everything. 

He had been practising leaps, and Insung had been helping him, holding his waist to lift him in the air, but he kept stumbling. Each time he did, he would grip Insung’s arm tightly and feel the sensation he always felt when they touched. 

“Ready?”, Insung asked as Renjun steadied himself again and nodded. 

Insung lifted him, he extended a leg out, raising his arms forward, but as he landed, he stumbled, and Insung caught him, Renjun felt his arms on his back. For a moment they were distracted by each other, and time was not a concept. Insung held him there, and Renjun looked at his face, dared to, and he saw the face he had grown so familiar with over the past months, felt the touch that made him feel protected. All he wanted was to feel safe, and to feel loved - he hadn’t realised at the time that he had been chasing love in the wrong places. 

Insung let go of him, like he’d had a sudden realisation. Renjun stumbled again, regaining his balance and walking to the bar. He waited for Insung to follow, and he did. Renjun clasped the metal determinedly, resisting, and extending a leg out behind him, but Insung straightened the leg, and the contact was back. He could feel his own heartbeat in his ears, and he hated himself, but dropped the leg, turning quickly, and pulling Insung down by his shirt. 

He abandoned the shirt in favour of holding the man’s face between his hands and pushed their lips together. It didn’t start out soft, the kiss, it was fevered, and it was desperate, and Renjun hadn’t realised how much he had been wanting to do it or for how long, but Insung kissed him back. The bar pressed into his back as the kiss deepened and Renjun closed his eyes, chasing the thrill. 

Insung broke away, and Renjun was panting, he had hardly stopped to breathe throughout. He thought that he saw guilt flash across Insung’s face, and he cowered slightly as he backed further against the bar. 

“Go and get changed”, Insung said, he was flushed. 

Renjun showered in the locker room, and as the water hit his skin, he tried to forget that it had happened, but he couldn’t ignore the feeling. Still, he tried to wash it away. He got out of the shower and wrapped a towel around his waist, the soft white fabric rested on his hipbone, and he walked towards his locker. 

But then he saw Insung at his own locker, and he realised that every bit of self-restraint that he had left was gone. 

Insung opened his locker, but Renjun pushed it shut, pulled him in again and this time neither of them could resist the force that had been drawing them together for so long. Renjun pulled at Insung’s shirt as they stumbled backwards, onto a bench in the empty locker room, and as Renjun lay on it, Insung wiped the strands of still wet hair out of his eyes and kissed his lips again, hard. Renjun’s mind was blank, and he liked it, he didn’t need to think about anything else as Insung trailed kisses down his neck. He’d been feeling numb, this was the first thing he’d felt for a long time. It could have finished there, but it didn’t, they didn’t want it to. 

The towel fell away from Renjun’s lower half, and he tugged Insung in towards him, pulling at his coach’s sweatpants. 

\--

The studio was silent the next day when Renjun had walked in, and Insung had not made eye contact as he began the warm up that he always did. 

“Was that your first time?”, Insung mumbled from across the room. 

Renjun’s whole body stiffened, and he looked at his trainer, their eyes meeting, “yeah.” 

_“Shit”_ , Insung murmured, and wiped a hand on his face, inhaling, “I shouldn’t have done that.” 

“I think it was my fault”, Renjun said. 

“I would have stopped if you’d asked me.” 

“I didn’t want you to.” 

As Renjun tried to dance that day, he winced at every movement, because it still hurt, he hadn’t realised how much sex would affect his ability to dance and he groaned as each pain shot through his spine. 

“I think that’s enough for today”, Insung said, and Renjun could tell that he felt guilty. “Go home and get some rest.” 

The sex didn’t stop though, they kept making the same mistake. They were like magnets, Insung and Renjun, always drawn back to each other by physical attraction. 

The second time they drove to Insung’s apartment, after a training session and had sex on the couch, quick, desperate sex. 

They both knew that there could be no marks left on Renjun, not where they could been seen by his manager, by others, it wasn’t professional, on both of their parts, but they kept doing it, and no one knew. It was like a drug to Renjun, the sex, he couldn’t stop. It was just physical lust, they hardly knew anything about each other, but the sex continued, and then it wasn’t just sex. Insung took him out to expensive restaurants and they stayed in fancy hotels, because Insung knew all the best one’s in Seoul, and he saw the bright lights and wonder all over again, it dazzled him. 

Physical lust only went so far though and eventually the lights started to dull, and nothing with Insung was particularly exciting anymore. He realised that Insung knew nothing about him. All he knew was that Renjun had attended Seoul national ballet school, because that is what he had been told. 

“You rich kids that come from Seoul national ballet school, had it easy your whole life.” 

It was a harmless comment, it could have been. Renjun kissed him, “you’re right”, he murmured into his skin. _Insung didn’t know him at all._

Insung dipped lower, kissing down Renjun’s neck, and past his collarbone, his lips trailing to the silver chain. He kissed it, beside the moon and the star, and Renjun wanted to slap him. 

They called him the boy with stars in his eyes, but he knew the stars were burning out. 

He thought of Jeno, recoiling physically when he said the name in his own head. He thought about Insung, and he thought about Jeno again, the pureness of what he had with him, he wanted it back, he was ruined. Jeno knew him. 

Renjun had taken his phone without thinking one evening, and called Jeno’s number, again, and again, over the following weeks, because he couldn’t stop himself, and he’d succeeded, he wanted to tell Jeno. 

It wasn’t Jeno that answered the phone though. 

“Hello?”, the voice was female and sweet. Renjun’s heart cracked. She yawned, sounding like she had just woken up. 

“Who is it, babe?” 

Renjun heard his voice and he tried to open his mouth to speak, but no words came out. 

“It’s that number again”, the girl said. 

“Just end the call.” 

Renjun threw the phone at the wall, he didn’t care if it smashed into a thousand pieces because he wouldn’t pick them up. He broke down in his apartment, into fitful sobs, because he thought then, that he had lost Jeno forever. 

He turned up on Insung’s doorstep two hours later, eyes still red and sore, and Insung hugged him. Renjun rubbed his cheek against the fabric of the man’s shirt and kissed his lips. 

_“Make me feel something”_ , he uttered against his skin. 

Insung kissed down his neck and Renjun glared at the wall. 

They stumbled towards the bedroom and Renjun slammed the door behind them, pushed up against the back of it. He fumbled with Insung’s shirt, discarding it and reaching for his belt. 

\--

Renjun started making mistakes at shows because he was distracted. The relationship he had with Insung was an intense affair, but it was not love. He came to realise as he neared the age of twenty-one, that there had only ever been one person that he loved, and it was his own fault, because he had let him go – _his Jeno, his muse, his home._

The stars in his eyes did not shine for Insung, he knew they should be there because everyone else saw them, but they weren’t. Insung never saw them either. They only came out when he danced on stage doing what he loved. 

The relationship had started to take over their professional lives and Insung had been the first one to draw a line under it. 

Renjun looked at the floor of the practice room as Insung spoke. 

“This isn’t bringing out the best in either of us.” He gazed at Insung with sad eyes. “You’re not focusing on your dancing, and I’m not being the best coach that I can be.” 

“I don’t love you”, Renjun murmured. 

“I know”, Insung said, and put a hand on Renjun’s cheek, a gentle hand, and he leant into the touch. “There’s a part of me that wished that you did, but we aren’t right together.” He retracted the hand. “We were just a moment in time, and we were going to destroy each other if we kept going.” Insung looked at him and he looked at Insung. “You’re something special Renjun, on stage, and you can’t let that go.” 

Renjun smiled at him sincerely. Whatever he felt for Insung, he knew it wasn’t love, but it wasn’t hatred either. 

A week later, Insung handed in his resignation, and everything in Renjun’s life felt empty again. 

\--

Renjun realised that he needed to find himself again. The only thing that he had left was ballet, he needed a life too. 

So he tried, and on his twenty first birthday, Jaemin came to meet him. Renjun had hugged him, and it had felt like something real, to have his friend again, because it had been so long since he’d seen anyone that meant anything to him. Jaemin had a girlfriend too now, and she came for dinner with them. Renjun liked her a lot, she was kind, and beautiful, and he thought that she matched Jaemin perfectly. 

Renjun was successful now, and his shows were going well, all of them, some of the stars were back in his eyes. 

Dessert came, a cake that Jaemin had ordered for him. He looked at Jaemin and grinned, and then at the cake. It had sparklers on it, and they reflected like stars would. The colours sparkled, and they took him back. 

_He was eleven again, the sparklers on the cake turned into sparklers that Jeno held out to him, and they laughed in his back garden as Renjun spun the stick, making huge circles of glowing light._

He smiled as the colour dulled in front of him to reveal the cake again and he tentatively touched the silver necklace, just to make sure it was still there. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for this super long angsty chapter but I hope any questions from chapter five were answered by finding out what happened to renjun in the years :( I!!will!!mend!!your!!heart!!I promise!! Thank you so much for sticking with this story and comments and kudos have really made my days I just love and appreciate you all so much!! so!! thank you again - elle  
> twitter:renjunfairydust  
> [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.qa/renjunfairydust)


	7. Chapter 7

When Jeno turned twenty-one, he finished college, and after that, he finally moved to Seoul. 

It was what everyone else was doing, leaving the countryside for the city, and so he did it too. He had worn Daegu out, Daegu had worn _him_ out. Jeno knew the change he needed was in Seoul, and he had applied for a job in one of the best hospitals in the city as a junior physiotherapist. He was offered a place, and he had not hesitated to accept it. 

That had led him here, perched on the doorstep of his new fifth floor studio apartment in the city. It was rented and Jeno knew the landlord owned most of the rooms on this floor. He glanced behind him, where he could see the business centre of Seoul through the foggy November air, the buildings that merged into one across the skyline. Looking down at the street below, Jeno saw the dull lamps that ran along the line of identical apartment blocks. It had been so long since Seoul had been his home, that he had lost his confidence in the city, but even seeing it like this he realised how much he had missed it. 

The silver key hovered above the lock and, after deliberating, Jeno slid it into the metal fitting. It clicked as he turned it, the door falling open to reveal a glimpse of the furnished interior. He had not had a lot to bring with him, except his clothing and other paraphernalia he had collected over the years. Taking the handle of his suitcase determinedly, he pushed the door again and dragged the wheels along the floor into the warmth. 

The door slammed but Jeno stared calmly at his new home that before now he had only seen in photographs. It was small and minimalist but had large windows covering the expanse of the furthest wall, letting light in through the open curtains. The walls were a stark white, and there was a large bed with a pale blue cotton quilt in one corner. Through the huge window he saw another aspect of Seoul, from this high up it seemed to stretch out past the horizon forever. It was a whole world of opportunity, a whole world he could get lost in. 

Jeno let go of the suitcase, abandoning it as he wandered curiously through the room towards the kitchen area. He pulled on the fridge door next to the sink and the light inside flicked on as it opened. Jeno stared at the empty space for a moment before sliding the straps of his bag off his shoulder and unzipping it quickly. He took out the half-drunk bottle of water he’d bought at the train station back home and set it on the bottom shelf, closing the door again. He dumped the bag on the floor and walked over to the bed, sitting on it tentatively and feeling his body sink into the softness. Leaning back and stretching, he sighed loudly, legs still aching from the journey. 

That evening, Jeno hauled himself to the convenience store across the road. It only sold the basics, but he could get what he needed for that night and he would worry about the rest in the morning. The sign above it was a little faded, lit up with yellow lights that flickered from time to time. He filled the basket almost to the top, slinging packets into it as he brushed through each aisle. The teen behind the cash register grunted at Jeno as he placed the basket in the dip between the counter, scanning the items and throwing them into a brown paper bag. 

The streets of Seoul felt strangely familiar but still Jeno took his time to memorise the new places as it was not the same as it used to be. Everything seemed a little off now, and even though he had grown up here, none of the streets resembled home. Some things hadn’t changed though, the bustle of people late into the night and the smell of food from the street markets. They reminded him of when he was eight years old, when he would come to the markets late at night with his mother and his father, a hand in each of theirs. 

He carried the shopping back to his apartment, throwing the paper bag onto the table in the kitchen area and emptying the contents onto the polished wood. 

Snatching one of the ramen packets off the surface, he found a saucepan in a cupboard underneath the sink and filled it with water. It had taken him a few seconds to figure out how to use the stove, but eventually it clicked and the flame lit. There was a gentle simmering sound as the water boiled. He emptied the packet into the saucepan and pulled his phone from his pocket, dialling a familiar number. The phone rang once before the line at the other end connected as he put the phone down on the marble counter. 

_“Jeno”_ , his dad answered through the speaker, Jeno thought he sounded as though he were smiling. 

“Hi dad”, Jeno chuckled fondly, “I got here safely”, he said as he lowered the heat on the stove when the water begin to boil over the top and spill onto the metal below. 

_“That’s great, how is it, did you find the apartment okay?”_

“It’s good, yeah, I’m just making food.” 

_“Are you all ready for tomorrow?”_

Jeno looked across the room at the unpacked suitcase beside the bed, the uniform inside that he still hadn’t taken out. “Yeah”, he laughed. 

_“There’s mail for you here already, shall I send it on?”_

“That would be good, thanks dad.” Jeno stirred the ramen again, dispersing the water in the saucepan. “What’ve you been doing?” 

He heard his dad laugh softly again. _“Nothing very interesting, I’ve just finished clearing out the store room.”_

The line was quiet after that, and Jeno took the opportunity to flick the heat off and drain the water out of the pan. “It’s strange being back, it makes me think of when we used to live here.” 

Jeno thought about his mother, he guessed from the silence that his father did too. It had been a while since he’d pictured her and felt the ache of loss, but he realised then how much he had been thinking about her that day. He was in Seoul, and at the time he had only associated Seoul with her. 

_“It holds a lot of good memories”_ , his dad said finally at the other end of the phone line. 

“Yeah”, Jeno agreed, “you’ll have to come and visit me in my apartment, it’s really nice.” 

_“Of course I will”_ , his dad replied, and sighed lightly, _“I’ll let you get on with your evening for now though.”_

“I’ll call you tomorrow dad, I just wanted to let you know I got here safely.” 

Jeno smiled to himself as the call ended and then there was silence again, complete silence. He took the bowl of ramen and sat on the black couch at the other end of the room, picking up the television remote control on the way. He pressed the red button and the screen flicked on. Jeno let it play, so that there was noise over his own thoughts, eating slowly as he stared blankly. There’d been no one to leave behind in Daegu, he was lonely there, and he was lonely here too. He’d given up seeking relationships, deciding that if they happened, they happened, but he wouldn’t go searching, he was focusing on himself. Jeno dipped his chopsticks into the ramen again, pinching the starchy noodles between them. 

The stars felt closer than they had ever seemed from this high up. 

He dumped the empty bowl in the sink after he had finished, taking out his uniform from inside the case, the shirt and trousers, and hanging them on the back of the closet door for the next morning. 

He hoped that tomorrow would be a better day. 

\--

The next day Jeno was still lonely, although it _had_ been better than the last. 

His alarm woke him at six thirty in the morning, and he had been dazed as he slammed it off, rolling out of bed and stumbling towards the uniform that he’d hung up. It consisted of a short sleeved white shirt, matched with neat dark blue trousers. He slipped it on and snatched his glasses from the table beside the bed. His eyes had been tested the year before last, and he had been prescribed them to help him with his vision. They were large, with wide frames and gold rims. He placed them over the bridge of his nose, sliding them up so they rested below his eyes, and pushed his dark hair out of his face. 

The subway station was a ten-minute walk from the apartment. He boarded the train, busy with the early morning commuters still. Jeno stood, grasping a handle above his head as the train jolted. It was only four stops, and once the train pulled up at the station, he had been glad to step away from it, out of the stuffy air and into the freshness of the morning. 

The hospital was huge, dull and grey, standing in the centre of the city, surrounded by tall buildings. Jeno had done a few placement weeks at hospitals in Daegu, but already he was sure that they were nothing like this. He looked from the clouds that shrouded it in dull light, to the shining automatic doors that slid open for him as he stood in front of the entrance. 

When Jeno walked inside, he noticed immediately the desk at the front, and the receptionist sat behind it. Her hair was tied back neatly, and she seemed bored, fiddling with a few paper clips between her fingers and staring at the computer in front of her. She looked up as Jeno approached and forced a smile. 

“I’m Lee Jeno”, he smiled back at her, “it’s my first day here.” 

“Ah yes”, she perked up, “Mr Lee! One moment, I’ll call Mr Moon down now.” Tapping a few keys on the telephone next to the computer, she held it to her ear and Jeno listened. His gaze wandered to the houseplant on her desk that needed water. She murmured something, and he watched her type again, the sound of her fake nails resonating against each key. 

“You’ll need this.” The receptionist reached into a drawer and pulled out a blue lanyard, handing it to Jeno. He took it and glanced down at the picture of himself in the left corner, one he had taken two months ago at home at the end of summer when he had been offered the job. 

His boss, Mr Moon, appeared minutes later, wearing the same physios’ uniform as Jeno, with short, grey hair and a friendly face. He smiled as he approached Jeno briskly. 

“Jeno”, he extended a hand out, which Jeno shook. “It’s good to see you again, welcome to the department.” 

“Thank you”, Jeno replied quietly, relaxing at the informality. 

“Follow me, I’ll show you around everything you’ll need.” Jeno stumbled to catch up with his boss, who had already turned to the nearest hallway and waited in the entrance. “Have they sorted out your identification pass already?” 

Jeno nodded, running his fingers over the lanyard he’d placed carefully around his neck. 

“Good.” His boss held the door open, striding through the long corridor. It was lined with tiny windows, and out of each one Jeno caught a glimpse of the grounds outside the hospital, the park area and trees against the stark wintery daylight. They stopped at the physiotherapy ward, and Jeno was guided through to one of the empty rooms. 

“For the first week you’ll be shadowing the other experienced physiotherapists here.” He nodded at Jeno, beckoning him forward, “after that you’ll start to be assigned your own patients, and you’ll stay with these individuals until their treatment has been seen through. We’ll have a review at the end of the first two weeks to see how you are settling in.” Jeno nodded slowly as the other cleared his throat. “Apart from that, there isn’t much more I need to say right now, I’ll take you over to the main office to introduce you to the team and then we can start from there.” 

Mr Moon disappeared into his office shortly after that and Jeno had been left with one of the senior physios to begin his first day of work. In the days that followed he learnt a lot. The days turned to weeks at the hospital, spent reviewing patients from the different wards, patients with fractures and sprains, evaluating the progress they had made and writing treatment plans. He liked his job a lot, and he had started to get to know the physios at the hospital despite being the youngest on the team. He found joy in helping people, fixing them, he’d always had a great sense of empathy, and although it was not the dream he’d held, he enjoyed it. Everything in Daegu had been theory and learning, but the hospital was practical, and it was real life, his patients’ achievements were his. 

It was alright, that’s what he kept telling himself. 

\--

Life took a turn three weeks later though, it changed forever all over again. 

Since moving to Seoul, Jeno had developed a routine in the mornings before work - his way of focusing on himself. 

That Monday was the same, he would run a new route each day to help him memorise the city. He went further that day, through alleyways until he reached the wide paving slabs of the built-up streets again. 

It was cold, and Jeno could feel the air biting at his legs where his shorts exposed them. The sun had begun to rise, and it cast shadows between the tall buildings that towered over the streets. Jeno watched the concrete, focusing on the pounding of his feet with each heavy footstep. 

He looked up though and saw something on the other side of the street - _something that made him stop dead._

His heart was still pounding from exertion. 

_Five years._

He knew he wanted to turn around, but he stayed staring at it instead. 

The billboard covered the front of the building - _the entire theatre._ He peered across from it only briefly to see the other structures on the street, all of them plastered with different posters, that glittered as the early morning sunshine caught them. 

Fate was teasing him, and it felt as though his heart had completely shattered instantly, because one moment everything had been fine, and the next it had not. The change was too quick for him, the impact was too strong. It was physical and his palms became sticky with sweat as he inspected the billboard again in disbelief. 

_Renjun._

The name hurt, even if it were not uttered aloud, it caused him to recoil, but he still couldn’t tear his eyes away from the poster. Jeno knew that face, he would know it anywhere, even now. He had vowed not to think of Renjun when he moved to Seoul, he knew he was here somewhere and even that still tore him apart, but he had fooled himself into believing that he was fine, and it had worked until then. 

The billboard displayed Renjun’s visage as a candid shot, a side profile, with scrolled red font in cursive letters underneath it surrounded by other pictures of the show. Jeno was drawn to Renjun’s face again, he studied it. Renjun’s cheeks were doused with makeup, a light blush, elegant make up that brought out his features, and he wore a far-off look, as though it were not the real him in the picture. He wasn’t smiling, soft lips pillowy and parted, and face framed by dark brown hair that was longer at the back and scattered over his forehead. Jeno noticed every detail in his eyes, eyes that seemed so familiar yet were distant and dulled in the photograph. He remembered what they all said, that Renjun had stars in his eyes, but he couldn’t see them in front of him. 

He almost laughed as the anger boiled inside him, that he could feel angry towards a billboard, he was angry at it for ruining _everything_. Everything that he had created for himself had been destroyed. When Jeno had seen the skyline on the first night at his new apartment, he’d felt so small, and Seoul had felt so big, yet somehow their paths had still crossed – _fate hated him._

Jeno knew Renjun was successful, and he knew he had been foolish to think he could avoid anything to do with him. In front of him now, Jeno’s world imploded. He didn’t want to see Renjun, but an invisible thread pulled him towards the other. 

When he snapped himself out of his trance he kept running, because he couldn’t bear to look any longer. As his feet pounded on the unfamiliar streets, all he could see in his mind was the poster, and all he could think about was Renjun, the years he’d spent repressing the memories catching up with him all at once. 

He had not stopped running until he was back at his apartment, and he stood under the shower almost lifelessly, letting the water rinse away the sweat. It soaked his body, dripping down his back until it reached his legs in tiny droplets. He ran a hand through his wet hair, pushing it off his face and closing his eyes as he tried desperately to compose himself, because he knew that he needed to. It proved futile, and in defeat he placed his hands on the cold white tiles that lined the room, hanging his head and sighing as he let it rest on the wall. 

All day at work he was distracted, the show wouldn’t leave his mind, it had forced its way in there and it would not go. 

Out of curiosity he had typed the name of the theatre into his phone. The website had a list of shows and his breath caught as he looked at the first one. 

_‘Giselle: a tale of innocent love and betrayal – starring Huang Renjun.’_

He read the words once, and he read them again, feeling the distant swell of pride in his chest that shouldn’t have been his own. 

_Giselle_ , the tape Renjun kept in his closet. Jeno felt the memories flood back, and he imagined eleven-year-old Renjun, the one that danced in his bedroom above the bakery, clumsily dancing the scenes in Giselle because at the time it was all he knew. Jeno had thought it was the most perfect thing he’d ever seen. 

He smiled at his phone, but the smile soon changed to conflicted anger. 

He scrolled down - the next show was the day after tomorrow. 

Jeno shook his head and placed his phone on his desk, returning to his work, but he stopped and picked it up again, staring at the words. He’d imagined finding Renjun when he came to Seoul, and he’d laughed it off as a childish want. 

His finger hovered, and he pressed the icon. 

He clicked on the ticket, seeing it flash up on his phone screen, and before he could think clearly he had purchased it, and was another step closer to Renjun. 

Jeno watched the confirmation glare on the screen, and he felt sick, _the transaction was complete._

He told himself that he would go for closure. He still cared about Renjun, there was nothing that could stop him from caring. 

\--

From the outside, the theatre was still as dazzling as when Jeno had first seen it. He’d dressed smartly, in a turtleneck and dark trousers that skimmed his ankles, a denim jacket thrown over the top. He pulled it across himself as he walked along the pavement for the evening performance, the sun having set over the theatre long ago and crowds already clustered outside. Jeno passed through the ornate glass doors into the lobby and was hit by a gush of warm air that contrasted with the chill outside. He flashed his ticket to the uniformed woman at the booth but didn’t catch her response, too distracted by his actions. 

Inside the theatre, he peered at the ticket on his phone, scanning the rows of the balcony seating for the number that matched as he walked down the central aisle, clutching the programme he’d bought. They weren’t the best seats, but Jeno had paid for what was available. The architecture was lined with plush gold railings and intricate flocked wallpaper which Jeno noticed as he took his place on the deep red velvet seat in the centre of the row. 

Beside him sat a family; mother, father and a young girl about ten years old. He smiled politely at them as he sunk into his own seat. Still on edge, he placed the programme in his lap and opened it tentatively, the glossy paper sticking to the pad of his thumb as the booklet fell open. He flicked past the first page, filled with typeset font, to the second, where the dancers’ names were printed. At the back there were photographs, mostly of Renjun. Jeno felt nauseous again but he forced it away. 

_Renjun seated in front of a pale background, smiling broadly, his whitened teeth sparkling. He was dressed in a plain t-shirt and his brown hair was perfectly styled to look messy and unkempt. Some where he wasn’t smiling, staring evocatively into the distance with his chin resting on his hand. The photographs of him dancing were the ones that Jeno thought to be most stunning though._

He stopped when he felt a stare fix on the side of his face and when he looked up, the girl from the family next to him was gazing at him with wide eyes and pursed lips. He attempted a small smile, diverting his attention back to the pages but she interrupted him again. 

“He’s my favourite too.” She pointed at the picture of Renjun dancing. 

Jeno laughed and nodded. 

“This is our second time here this month”, she rambled on, retracting her hand from the page, “I want to be a ballet dancer when I grow up.” 

Jeno sighed and looked at the photo of Renjun again. 

“He did too”, he responded, closing the book. 

The girl frowned at him, but the lights had begun to dim and gentle music started to play. 

Then he saw him, _Renjun_ , and he was sure if he was not so distracted by the other’s movements, he may have let himself cry. Immediately, he wished to tear himself from the seat and leave. His heart was too busy racing to fathom any rational emotion and instead he cast his eyes to the stage below. 

Even from far away, he could see how Renjun had changed, how the boy he knew had grown up in the last five years. Renjun wore fitted black trousers, high waisted with brass buttons and a billowing white sleeved shirt that laced up at the front. His moves on stage started out gradually, slowly, eventually becoming driven by speed and power as he leapt expertly across the stage. Jeno had not seen Renjun dance in years, and it was beautiful. He hit every move perfectly, with grace and poise and although Jeno felt suddenly angry again, it was lost in the vision before him. Renjun spun, his hair falling over his forehead, and Jeno was reminded of when they first met. He turned again, raising an arm, and Jeno recalled the dance recitals at school. Every new movement hurt a little more, but he told himself that he was okay, that his life was okay. He knew that it wasn’t. 

Renjun was still his weakness. 

In the final scene Renjun danced with the female lead, and at the end, he leant in and kissed her lightly on the lips, a gentle kiss that made Jeno think of the lips that had kissed his more than once, and his heart hurt because he couldn’t remember what they felt like anymore. 

Renjun left the stage at the end of the show, and it was as though he had never been there. The auditorium lights came on, and Jeno kept staring at the curtain below him. 

“Wasn’t that amazing?”, he heard the voice of the girl again and he turned to look at her, smiling and nodding sadly. “I’m going to go and see them at the stage door, they always come out afterwards.” She pulled something out of her lap then, a small single-stemmed pink rose, waving it in front of Jeno’s face, her pigtails bouncing as she did. 

Jeno trekked back to his apartment, through the darkened streets of Seoul. He didn’t take the subway, the walk would give him time to think, but all his thoughts were Renjun, and he wanted them gone, he was still _so_ angry. 

When he opened his front door, he dropped onto a chair at the kitchen table and slammed the programme down, placing his head in his hands momentarily, before opening a drawer not far away. He took something out, placing it next to the booklet, and all at once everything that he had left of Renjun was right in front of him. 

_The photograph of them at sixteen._

He opened the programme, to a glossy printed page showing Renjun’s face, and held it up next to the frame, his eyes flicking between the two. 

A part of him wished that he had gone to the stage door. He had promised himself that he would go for closure, that it would put his mind at rest, and he would be able to let go, but he wasn’t so sure anymore. 

Maybe that was what had driven him back the next day, that he had to see Renjun, that he needed to know the answers. 

Jeno had pulled his phone out of his pocket and bought a ticket for the same show the next day. 

\--

Sleep had been fitful, disturbed, and he had been distracted at work again on the day of the second show. He’d gone back to his apartment and changed out of his uniform, leaving and locking the door behind him as he paced the streets that had now become familiar. 

On his way, he had stopped at a small shop on the street corner. The florist had a green and white striped canopy stretching over its entrance, different from the other shops around it, like the Seoul that Jeno used to know. 

The bell above the door rung as Jeno opened it. The woman behind the counter smiled, she was middle aged and had a kind face, a white apron tied neatly around her waist. Jeno scanned the flowers placed in different sized buckets until he saw what he was searching for. 

“I’d like one of those please”, Jeno said and heard the woman step out from behind the counter. 

“Stargazer lilies”, she smiled and ambled to the row of flowers at the front of the shop, “How many stems?” 

“Just one.” 

“Perfect”, the florist grinned and Jeno watched as she picked out one of the blooms, it’s white curling petals tinted with pink. She returned grasping the lily and held it up to the daylight before placing it carefully on the counter. “This one is beautiful, is it for someone special?” 

“Yeah”, Jeno laughed ironically. 

The florist wrapped the flower carefully in cellophane, neatly trimming the excess stem. She worked efficiently, taking a white satin ribbon from inside the drawer under the counter and tying it into a bow around the plastic. “Stargazers are one of my favourites”, she paused, inspecting it, “they have a beautiful scent.” 

_“Tulips”_ , she continued, nodding to the row of flowers behind Jeno, “they mean hope, and _orchids_ are for elegance, _carnations_ symbolise good fortune, but these”, she held the stargazer lily out to Jeno, and he grasped it, _“they represent innocence and purity.”_

As Jeno took the flower from her, he couldn’t stop his mind from thinking back to the times beside the riverbank where he and Renjun had first seen the lilies together, the innocence and the purity of those scenes in his head, where everything else had been tainted, those images still remained. 

“I hope whoever gets this appreciates it.” 

“I hope so too”, Jeno smiled and placed the lily carefully under his arm, fumbling with a few notes from his wallet to pay. 

For the duration of the show that night, Jeno kept the lily tucked safely underneath his seat. He saw Renjun again and it hurt just the same amount, but this time he didn’t want to leave the theatre. 

The show ended, and Jeno was still not thinking properly, not until he saw the crowd of people that had surrounded the stage door at the side of the theatre. He joined them and found his way to the front at one end where it thinned. 

The door opened a few minutes later and a petite woman came out. Jeno recognised her, the female lead, out of costume and now wearing a thick grey sweater, as she smiled at the people that had come to greet her. He watched her walk past and step into one of the cars with blacked out windows that had pulled up on the pavement. 

He looked back to the door where another figure was now standing, and immediately he knew that it was Renjun. He came forward into the cool air, his manager by his side, and Jeno could feel himself trembling. He saw every detail, the framed face, the soft cheeks and the tired eyes revealed without make up to cover them. He wore a hoodie zipped to his chin, sweats, and a baseball cap. Part of Jeno thought that this resembled the Renjun he knew, but this grown man was still different in many ways. 

He went along the crowd, smiling, shaking hands, and Jeno heard the excited murmurs from the people around him as Renjun signed a few autographs. Jeno stood at the end of the line of people and watched as the other had still not looked up. Jeno took the lily from under his jacket, _hating himself_ , but holding it out. 

Renjun came closer, and when he noticed the lily, Jeno saw him hesitate, only for a moment, but the moment was long enough. He willed Renjun to look up, and he did, and the noise around them seemed to dull to an insignificant buzz, because Jeno caught Renjun’s eye and Renjun caught his, they were staring at each other, face to face, amidst the crowd. Jeno wasn’t sure what emotion crossed Renjun’s expression, he used to be able to tell instantly, but all he knew was that it wasn’t a happy one, eyes wide and almost frantic as they darted back down to the lily. 

_He was not smiling anymore._

Renjun reached for it, and the tips of his fingers grazed the cellophane before he was tugged sharply in another direction. 

Jeno saw his manager with a hand around Renjun’s arm, ushering him towards a car parked beneath a street lamp. He looked back across his shoulder as he was gestured into the car, _at Jeno_ , their eyes meeting again for the briefest of seconds as Jeno clutched the lily weakly in his hand. 

The door slammed shut and Jeno could no longer see Renjun through the darkened windows. 

He was left standing on the pavement long after the car had pulled away, and the crowds had thinned into the evening silence. 

His grip on the flower tightened, and he sighed, walking to the stage door, and dropping the lily on the ground next to it. 

If he thought he had stood half a chance with Renjun when they were sixteen, in his mind he stood absolutely none now. 

\--

The third night that Jeno went to watch Renjun’s show, he knew the sequences of the dances, which one came at which point in the story. 

He had thought about Yeeun for the first time in a while as he sat in the theatre seat, about what she had said to him, _he never forgot it_. He still didn’t know what to think, but small clarity came from thinking of the times all those years ago when she had told him how he felt, how Renjun felt. He wasn’t sure he believed it now, or if it had ever been real. 

There were people outside the stage door again, and Jeno rubbed his hands together, generating heat through the freezing air and shoving them into the pockets of his denim jacket. 

It was not the female dancer, or Renjun that came out of the door today - _it was a security guard._

He folded his arms, addressing the crowd. “Sorry folks, you may as well go home, they’ve all left through the back exit.” 

There were a few disappointed comments from the crowd, sighs and the sound of footsteps as people started to walk away. Jeno was still too numb to move, in those moments he wished that none of this had happened, fate had come so close to bringing them back together. He waited until everyone had dispersed, and in defeat he sunk down on the kerb, wiping his face in an attempt to distract himself from self-pity, but in the end he let his head rest against the clammy palm. 

A car drove past on the street, and its headlights shone through the darkness onto Jeno. He squinted but lowered his gaze to the floor again, glaring at the cracks in the tarmac numbly. Moments later his head shot up again when he heard shouting and then a door bang, sounding as though it had come from inside the theatre but when he turned around and scanned the area he saw nothing, and the noise subsided. He faced the road again, and another car sped past. Then there was a louder crash and distant shouting as muffled footsteps stumbled out into the cold night behind him. Jeno sat up, alert, the footsteps continued, softer and more cautious than they had been and then they stopped. 

“Jeno?” 

The voice was meek and hesitant, a hoarse whisper. 

Jeno had not heard Renjun speak for years, but he knew. He knew the voice and it hurt him. He felt every emotion then, but he couldn’t pinpoint a single feeling to describe it, all his confidence washed away, unable to turn around. 

“Jeno?”, Renjun repeated, louder this time. 

Renjun had stepped closer, but Jeno did not know what to say, he’d not thought it through, everything up to that point had been done on impulse. 

He turned his head halfway as Renjun spoke again. 

“I’m sorry – I-I thought you were someone I knew.” 

Jeno froze, breathing hesitantly. 

“I was”, he whispered. 

Jeno stood up and looked at the road for a second longer before turning. 

He saw Renjun through the darkness, standing in front of him with pained eyes. 

“Jeno, you’re here”, Renjun rasped. “I knew it was you, you were here yesterday, with the lily.” He stumbled over his words, his arms wrapped around himself, hugging them close to his body as he shivered. Jeno noticed the thin white t-shirt and the loose jeans before focusing on Renjun’s face again. 

“I wanted you to have it.” 

“The car”, was all Renjun answered. There was only silence then, and he gazed intensely at Jeno. “You came to Seoul?”, Renjun said finally, _hopefully_ , and a small smile crossed his lips. 

Jeno could feel his own bitterness. “Three years too late.” 

“Medical school?”, Renjun asked pitifully, looking anxiously over his shoulder at the stage door again. 

Jeno shook his head. “Physiotherapy.” 

“Jeno, what are you doing here?” 

Jeno took a step towards Renjun - he was so conflicted. 

“I came to see the show.” 

Renjun cowered backwards slightly at the cold answer, his smile dropping and Jeno watched his face, up close he was not the boy with the stars in his eyes, and he was not the boy that Jeno had seen in the glossy pages of the programme either, he was gaunt, and thinner than he had been, and he seemed tired and worn, eyes hollow and scared. Jeno hated himself for the feelings that surged through him, the instinct to protect Renjun, like he always had done, but he didn’t move. 

Renjun exhaled slowly and his breath clouded in the air, rising until it became nothing in the night sky. “You came to watch?” 

Jeno could see his hands shaking, and he softened, nodding. _“Five years”_ , he said weakly, looking at Renjun’s eyes again to search for some kind of meaning in them. _“Five years, Renjun.”_

Renjun’s gaze fell to the floor, “I’m sorry.” 

“You stopped calling.” 

Renjun raised his head, “I called”, he murmured, almost a whisper. 

“What?” 

There was a noise from behind the stage door and Renjun’s head shot up again, he turned, but there was nothing there. 

Jeno looked at Renjun, and just like all those years ago when he’d found Renjun alone on his own doorstep, all the anger disappeared at that moment, it was a natural reaction for him. 

He thought about what the lady in the florist had said, _purity and innocence._

“You were amazing on stage”, he murmured quietly, and Renjun’s head rose slowly, until he was staring at Jeno with round, saddened eyes, “you did it, Renjun.” 

There was a part of Jeno that wanted to beg Renjun for all the answers that he didn’t have, and there was another part that wanted to hold him, to wrap his arms around him, because that was what felt natural. 

Renjun stared at him again, and all the emotions that he couldn’t articulate were caught in his eyes. Jeno saw panic, guilt and hurt in the darkness where stars were meant to shine. The eyes widened slightly and Renjun seemed as though he were about to speak, but he didn’t. 

Instead, he stepped closer, and before Jeno could comprehend what had happened, Renjun had wrapped his freezing arms around Jeno’s waist. 

Jeno stumbled backwards slightly at the impact. He could have done nothing in response, he could have pushed Renjun away, or he could have let him cling pitifully to him. But he put his hands hesitantly on Renjun’s back, against the thin fabric of the t-shirt, and he could feel the other’s silent plea for forgiveness. Renjun tucked his head underneath Jeno’s chin and clung to him. 

_“Jeno”_ , he whispered in a broken voice into his chest. 

Jeno was completely defeated by the encounter, he could feel Renjun shivering against him, shaking as he pressed up onto Jeno’s warmth desperately. He reached out and touched the skin of his bare arm lightly. “Where’s your coat?” 

“I left it inside”, Renjun stuttered, “I’ll get it tomorrow.” 

Jeno slipped off his denim jacket without thinking and draped it around Renjun’s shoulders gently. He slid his arms in and Jeno pulled the collar up to his chin. The shivering ceased and Renjun dropped back into the other’s arms again, gripping the back of Jeno’s shirt, as if when he let go, Jeno would disappear. He twisted the material in what Jeno took as _relief_. 

Jeno put his hand on the back of Renjun’s head and rested his cheek on the smaller’s hair. He wanted to cry, but he had no energy left. 

There were questions that needed to be addressed, he was still so angry, and lost, but he forgot it all just for those moments. 

Jeno closed his eyes, Renjun felt like home. 

A loud crash from behind the stage door made Renjun jump out of Jeno’s arms. “I need to go.” 

There was not a lot of time for much else after that. Renjun grasped Jeno’s wrist desperately, looking at his face again, “Please”, he rushed, _“meet me.”_

“Where?” 

“I have a day off in two days”, Renjun pointed across the road to a pathway that ran alongside the river, “there, by the river, there’s an old boathouse.” Renjun was already taking steps backwards, panicked as he moved from Jeno, it made no sense to him. “Two o’clock”, he finished. He had already created a distance between the two of them as he backed further away, but paused, “your jacket”, he rushed, sliding it off his shoulders but glancing behind him again. 

“Don’t worry about it.” 

_“I’m sorry”_ , Renjun mouthed, and he ran to a car that pulled up next to them, tugging on its door and stepping inside. 

Jeno had fallen in love with Renjun when they were sixteen, lost the love at eighteen, and at twenty-one he no longer knew where he stood. 

He was left on the cold pavement, alone again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know what to say here but ahah I hope you enjoy the chapter and the (bittersweet??) reunion. I'm so interested to hear your thoughts, comments and kudos mean the world, thank you so much for reading!! :) - elle  
> twitter: renjunfairydust  
> [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.qa/renjunfairydust)


	8. Chapter 8

Renjun could see Jeno in the distance. 

He knew it was Jeno, sat on a low bench in the hazy shadows of the old boathouse. The pale wintery sun threw its light onto the river, causing the water to glint and sparkle on the horizon. 

It was cold and Renjun shivered, the frosty gravel crunching under foot as he walked along the riverbank, although he could hardly hear it over the sound of his own raspy breaths. He stuck his freezing hands into his sweater pockets. The stalls that lined the grassy park side made the air heavy with the aroma of street food and each time Renjun passed one, he shuddered as a gush of warm air hit him. 

Jeno had not seen him yet. 

Breathing out into the crisp afternoon air, it clouded in front of his face, distorting the view of Jeno. He pulled the grey beanie over his forehead, to protect him from the chill, or perhaps he thought it would hide him away, mask the fear. Jeno’s denim jacket was tucked under his arm, a reminder of their encounter. 

_Jeno_. He stared at him as his features became sharper, more in focus. In those moments he couldn’t quite fathom that he was right there, getting closer with each footstep he took. He hadn’t had time to take him in the night outside the theatre, it had been a haze of emotion. The shock had washed away though, and left Jeno, only Jeno. He was different, but it was still him. 

_Renjun’s head told him to run away – but he knew he had been doing that for too long._

Since he had seen him after the performance, the days had been filled with thoughts of Jeno, and at night he’d laid awake restlessly. He didn’t think he could face it, there were too many words to say, but he hadn’t been sure he’d be able to form any in front of Jeno, he still wasn’t sure now. There were nerves, apprehension, and a feeling he couldn’t quite place, a constant feeling, dread. It was like waking up in the morning, everything seeming fine, until realisation of the burden hit, those feelings were constant. 

Renjun could see the crowds flocking from the café next to the boathouse, but Jeno sat perfectly still on the bench staring at the river. He was leaning forward, elbows on his knees, the thick fur on the hood of his coat bunched around his chin. 

It had been so long since Renjun had been held by anyone, not just Jeno, that he had forgotten the feeling. He remembered now though, Jeno had made him remember at the theatre. The emotions were distant, lost somewhere, but the physical feeling was etched into every sensation. It was only Jeno’s shirt between his fingers, grasping it, the warmth of his shoulders, and Jeno’s cheek against his hair. That was a moment in time, but Jeno was more, Jeno to him was laying across the bed doing homework together, Jeno was quiet conversation late at night, Jeno was a time where things were easier, when things hurt less. 

It was a stab to his heart, that Jeno was a stranger now, that Jeno wasn’t his anymore, like he was once. There was a time that Jeno would do anything for him, and he would do anything for Jeno. He hadn’t wanted to lose him. 

Renjun wondered if too much had changed, if it was too different now, but he kept walking. Jeno had come to see the show, and there was _the lily_. He could still picture his fingertips reaching for it, how it had slipped out of his grasp as he was pulled away, and how easily he could lose Jeno again still. 

Jeno was right there in front of him now, and his heart raced at the sight. 

He slid silently onto the bench next to Jeno, clasping his hands together and rubbing his thumbs roughly against each other in the bitter air. He wasn’t sure if he’d noticed him but he set the denim jacket carefully on the seat between them. 

Jeno looked at him then. 

“You turned up.” 

“So did you.” 

Jeno nodded, smiling at Renjun gently. His voice had deepened, his eyes were cautious, and they’d lost the innocence of youth. Renjun saw them properly for the first time in years, the soft brown irises. 

He broke his gaze, it was too intense, and faced the river, watching the water lap against the muddy bank. 

“Do you live nearby?”, Jeno asked hesitantly. 

Renjun pointed past them away from the river, behind at the apartment building next to the theatre, “just over there, the company pays for it.” He lifted his heels onto the edge of the bench and hugged his knees to his chest. His sneakers slipped off the wood, but he brought them up again. They fell silent, but Renjun could still hear the buzz of Seoul, the streets full of cars, and the voices around them. 

“How long have you been in Seoul?” 

“Just over a month.” 

Renjun locked his index fingers together so they kept his legs in place against his chest, “just you?”, he stared awkwardly at the water. 

“It’s just me”, Jeno confirmed. 

Renjun stayed still, the flow of the river becoming almost hypnotising, with the lulling sound as it hit the bank. _He had to face this_. The water ebbed, small waves breaking against the side, and he knew Jeno was looking at him. He glanced up, meeting _those_ eyes. 

“Your jacket.” Renjun picked it up and handed it to Jeno. 

“Thanks.” Jeno took it from him and placed it over his lap. 

Renjun’s heart still pounded. He tried to form the words but couldn’t speak, couldn’t articulate the ache in his chest, the guilt, the excitement, the fear. Still staring at the water, he swallowed nervously. 

“I missed you”, he let out, just above a whisper. 

The silence built, before Jeno made it crumble. 

“I was there,” he stated. 

“I know.” Renjun cupped his knees with his hands to distract himself from the pain welling inside him. 

Jeno turned to look at him now. “I don’t understand.” 

“I don’t know where five years went”, Renjun replied, “I don’t know where _I_ went.” He looked up at Jeno, expecting anger, because even he knew he made no sense, had he ever? He saw patience in Jeno’s face though, and he felt everything at once, everything he had wanted to feel for so many years, and it was overwhelming. 

“What were we when you left, Renjun?” 

“Almost something?” he offered in response. 

“Your phone was dead, there were no calls”, Jeno’s voice was pained. “I was worried about you.” 

“I’m sorry.” Renjun lowered his head onto his knees. “I lost my phone.” 

“Did you lose my number?” 

Renjun’s legs dropped weakly to the floor as he let go of them, he placed his hands in his lap anxiously, exposed, “no, I knew your number.” 

“I was waiting”, Jeno said, and shot a look at Renjun with an anguish they both seemed to share wordlessly. “The times when we talked, it felt like you weren’t really there, we were drifting apart. Then I saw you on television”, he forced a small, pained laugh, “the production, at least you were okay, you seemed happy.” 

“I called.” Renjun could feel his heart beating, “you answered once, it sounded like you were having a good time, like you were at a party.” He paused to observe Jeno, and for the first time since he had known him, he appeared vulnerable, like the pieces were fitting into place in his head, “and another time, someone else answered, and I knew I’d lost you.” 

Jeno pressed his forehead into his palms, and Renjun felt an urge to reach out and take his hand but stopped himself in the fear that Jeno might brush it away if he did. 

“That was you?” 

Renjun nodded slowly. 

“They were junk, I didn’t know the number.” 

Renjun looked at Jeno with widened, sad eyes, he couldn’t disguise the pain any longer, he was sure that Jeno would see through it anyway, he always had done. 

“I was scared.” 

“Of what?” 

“I was scared of myself, of us, of losing you, there was too much I was afraid of, I couldn’t find the words. I thought if I heard your voice it would be easier, but it wasn’t”. They had stopped looking at each other, both facing the flowing water. It reminded Renjun of when they were younger, the years they spent by the bank of the river at home, but this was Seoul, and somehow they had managed to find their way back, but nothing felt right, except the water and the riverbank. “You’re angry.” 

“I was angry.” Jeno kicked his foot into the dirt. 

“You’re still angry.” 

Jeno shook his head slowly. “It was really you?”, he sighed, shuffling on the bench. He let out a wry laugh. _“How did we get it so wrong?”_

Renjun dipped his hand inside his sweater then, and his fingers slid across his collarbones, pulling at the silver chain around his neck. He dragged it out past the fabric and into the daylight. The chain shimmered in the sunlight and they both stared at it, the pendants, the moon and the star that had stayed so close to Renjun all these years. 

“I never take it off”, Renjun murmured hoarsely, his voice wavering. 

Jeno’s breathing was steady, Renjun could see him controlling the breaths rising and falling from his chest. “I don’t understand you”, Jeno said finally, lifting his hands out of his pockets. 

It hurt a little, because Jeno had been the only one who ever understood him, and they didn’t know each other anymore. He set the necklace carefully back inside his sweater, nestled safely over his chest, where it always was, and sat silently. Jeno was the first to speak again. 

“Shall we get something to drink?” 

His smile was weak, but his face softened as he nodded at the café beside the boathouse, large panoramic windows facing out towards the river and a terrace outside. Renjun could feel tears welling, but he blinked them away. 

Jeno stood up, taking the denim jacket and slinging it over his arm as he strode ahead. 

It was warm inside, the smell of coffee and spices wafting through the air. Renjun ran to catch up to Jeno at the end of the queue, tucking a stray piece of hair under his beanie. Jeno noticed this, squinting and scrunching his nose. 

“What?” 

Jeno reached out and slipped it off Renjun’s head, eyes widening as he stared at the hair now tousled messily. 

“Your hair’s blond”, Jeno remarked, “your hair wasn’t blond last time.” 

Jeno clutched the beanie, and Renjun felt exposed without it. The sudden familiarity fizzled away, and he snatched the hat and secured it over his hair, tucking some of the loose strands underneath it and frowning. “It’s for a photoshoot, it’ll be back to brown next week.” 

The queue moved forward. “I’ll get them, what do you want?” Renjun stepped towards the counter. 

“Just a cappuccino, thanks.” 

Renjun returned with the coffee in one hand and a green tea for himself in the other, walking slowly to Jeno who was leaning comfortably against the tiled café wall. He handed the cup carefully to him, clutching his tea between both hands to savour its warmth. 

“Where do you want to go now?” 

“Somewhere quiet”, Renjun answered. 

They walked beside the river, along the pathway to where the branches above them were thicker and the ground was less worn. They didn’t speak much, Renjun raising the paper cup to his lips occasionally to take a sip of the bitter liquid. After a while they stopped at a low wall further along the bank, resting on the brickwork. Renjun dangled his legs, he viewed the city skyline across the river, office buildings, and crowded lanes below. 

“It’s nice here”, Jeno commented. 

Renjun focused on the stark trees above their heads, and the frost on their branches, then out to the river. “It’s much better in summer time, it’ll be beautiful then.” He knew spring would come, with the promise of warmth and the cherry blossoms on the trees. 

“I told you I’d show you the Han river one day”, Jeno smiled wistfully. 

“I’ve already seen it”, Renjun laughed. 

“Yeah, I guess you have.” 

Renjun sipped from the cup, the tea had cooled a little, and slipped down his throat easily. “I had relationships too”, he said, “one…sort of”, he exhaled and took another sip quickly. 

“Was it anyone special?” 

“No.” 

“No one?” 

“No one special.” Renjun shrugged his shoulders. “I thought it would make everything go away.” 

“So did I”, Jeno stated. 

“The girl that answered your phone.” 

Jeno nodded. 

“What happened?” 

“I went to college in Daegu, and I was angry at you, _I was so angry_ , but life carried on”, Jeno breathed in deeply, Renjun could hear the sadness in his voice, but he masked it with a slight smile, “I feel like I don’t know you anymore, tell me who Renjun is now.” 

Renjun let out a small snicker and covered his mouth with his hand self-consciously, lowering it again, “I dance”. 

“That’s all you do?” 

“Pretty much.” The paper cup was almost empty by now and Renjun swirled the remaining liquid absentmindedly, “five shows a week, every week.” 

“You’re a star, are you happy?” 

“In some ways.” 

“It’s what you wanted, isn’t it?” 

“Yeah, it’s what I wanted.” Renjun could see Jeno watching him, eyes softening with concern. 

“Who are you now?”, Jeno asked again gently. 

“I’m the boy with _stars_ in his eyes.” Renjun grinned and drank the last of the tea, setting the cup beside him on the wall and listening to Jeno’s soft chuckle. 

“I’ve heard.” 

Renjun saw Jeno look across at him, lingering on his face. His tone was sincere. 

“How was ballet school?” 

“Tough”, Renjun was exposed again, _vulnerable himself_ , “I told you the good parts.” He sighed, chin pressing against his flat palm, “when I first got there, I just wanted to come home.” 

“You never said.” 

“I didn’t want to disappoint anyone.” 

“Who?” 

“You”, Renjun mumbled quietly. 

“Why would I have ever thought that?” 

“I don’t know, I wasn’t thinking properly.” 

“So you decided not to talk to me at all?” 

Renjun didn’t have answers, but all the memories prior to ballet school came crashing back, the ones he’d tried for so long to block out, to move on from. Jeno’s face was home to him, and he’d almost forgotten home. He thought back to the boy in the bakery. Just him and his dad, facing the world. 

“Is everything okay at home?”, Renjun paused, and reached out to Jeno, as he would have done to comfort when they were younger but withdrew before it had any consequence. 

“It’s the same, you know how it is there, nothing changes.” 

“Your dad?” 

“The same as usual.” Jeno stared at his fingernails, his hands restless in his lap. 

“And Yeeun?” 

Jeno winced, sitting up straight, “she’s okay, she still texts sometimes, at teacher training college now.” 

“That’s what she wanted”, Renjun smiled fondly. 

“Renjun, is your mom still-“ 

“I don’t know.” 

“Have you spoken to her?” 

“Not really, I’ve seen her a few times, I went home”, Renjun looked at Jeno with doleful eyes, “you weren’t there.” He waited for a response, but a boat passing on the river caught their attention and they watched as its wake broke on the bank and rippled outwards. 

“I wasn’t sure you’d recognise me now.” Jeno started the conversation again. 

Renjun could hardly speak, his stomach in knots. He waited, distracted, as the breeze ruffled Jeno’s hair. His shoulders were broad now, above them the fur on his coat hood brushed his cheek lightly with every breath. His arms had been safety and protection, Renjun wanted to run to them again. 

“I wouldn’t forget.” 

Jeno smiled, and the corners of his mouth curved upwards. It brought a lump that lingered to Renjun’s throat, stirred until it became tears settled in the corners of both his eyes. He peeked at the grey sky, the dull colours blurred, but he held his sobs in. 

Jeno spoke again, and he couldn’t stop them from falling down his face. 

“Eleven years since you came into the bakery and wanted cake.” Jeno’s laughter rung dryly through the air and Renjun turned his head slightly, although not enough for the tears settled on his cheeks to be seen. 

“You let me have it for free”, Renjun choked on the words. 

“You paid for it the next day”, Jeno chuckled. His voice was light, and Renjun could tell he was trying to make him turn around, to coax him back. 

Renjun wiped his face hastily, he knew his eyes would still be red, but he turned and saw Jeno again, a smiling Jeno, and he couldn’t stop himself smiling back, “I came back because I wanted to see you, I wanted to be your friend”, he admitted childishly, hearing Jeno breathe out slowly. 

“Are you crying?” 

“No.” Renjun wiped under his eyes again, feeling the moisture on his cheeks. “You brought a stargazer lily to the show.” 

“That’s our thing isn’t it?”, Jeno laughed. 

Renjun sniffled, “I guess it is.” 

They were interrupted by Renjun’s phone buzzing noisily from his pocket. He pulled it out, sensing Jeno watching him as he tapped the screen, trying to focus. _“Shit”_ , he mumbled, staring at the text and then locking the phone again, “I’ve got to be somewhere.” 

“I thought it was your day off.” 

“It is, I’m sorry, it’s work stuff.” Renjun sighed, picking up the empty paper cup and taking it to a nearby bin. He threw it in and walked back to the wall, Jeno looking at him dejectedly. He pointed to the phone sticking out of Jeno’s jeans pocket. Jeno understood, punching in the digits of the passcode before handing it over. Renjun pressed on the contacts, creating a new one and dialling in his own number. 

Jeno studied it. “I recognise that number.” 

“You can answer it next time”, Renjun laughed softly, and Jeno joined in, both of them for longer than they needed to, because it filled the silence that kept dwelling in the air. 

“Can I walk back with you?” 

Renjun nodded and stood, “it’s this way”, he said. 

The walk to the park gates was filled with a strange sense of normality, they talked, and laughed until they passed through the exit and onto the streets beyond. They crossed the road and Jeno noticed the theatre further in the distance. 

“I’ll have to leave you here.” Renjun spoke. 

Jeno didn’t question it, and Renjun was glad. He nodded but neither of them moved. 

“Are you free tomorrow?”, Jeno asked. 

Renjun let out a breath he didn’t realise he had been holding. He couldn’t see Jeno as clearly anymore, the sky had begun to darken and the sun had set behind the clouds, causing hues of orange to fade across the streets. 

“After the show, but it’ll be late.” Renjun stuttered, feeling as though he were sixteen again and pulling at his sweater cuffs. 

“If you want to, we could…”, Jeno hesitated again, digging his nails into his hand, “go out for dinner?” 

“That sounds good.” Renjun gave him a gentle nod. “Meet me here again tomorrow, I’ll message you.” 

Renjun knew that he needed to leave but something was making him stay, his feet were stuck to the ground, and Jeno’s seemed to be too. “I should go now”, he rushed, and started to turn. 

“Goodnight”, Jeno shot after him and it made him stop, glancing back. 

“Goodnight”, he smiled. 

\--

The car was already parked outside his apartment and he trudged towards it, steps heavily dragging on the pavement. 

Renjun pushed the door handle down and it clicked open. As he sat, he saw his manager, _Hyunsik_ , already in the driver’s seat with a hand rested on the steering wheel. He pulled off the beanie, holding it in his lap. 

“You’ve been out”, Hyunsik commented. 

“It’s my day off, I went for a walk.” 

Renjun could see Hyunsik was not interested and so instead he took out his phone as the car moved. 

“The magazine got back to me, they aren’t happy with some of the photos from yesterday, we need to reshoot them.” 

Renjun hummed and stared out of the window, cheek pressed against the car seat, the city whirling past as they crossed town. 

Hyunsik had given up expecting answers from him, they didn’t communicate a lot anymore, even though he’d been the one to cast Renjun into the company, been with him since he was eighteen. It wasn’t like he hated Hyunsik, but he did not like him either. Renjun didn’t feel much for anybody, he just did what people told him to do. 

“You’re distracted.” 

“I’m just tired”, Renjun replied, opening his phone. He scrolled to Jeno’s name and saw the space below, smiling, he started to type. 

_Thank you._

He pressed send and locked his phone. The reply was almost instant, the screen flashing on. 

_For what?_

Renjun smiled and typed again. 

_For not giving up._

Jeno’s response took longer that time, and Renjun had watched out the window to distract himself. 

_I’ll see you tomorrow._

Renjun’s hand curled over the beanie in his lap, scrunching it and sighing as he leant against the seat. 

It was silent until they entered the studio. Renjun posed for the photos to be taken, the camera flashing in his face each time he shifted on the stool in the centre of the room, with a white backdrop behind him, styled in a white shirt and pale ripped jeans, smiling broadly each time he was directed to do so. 

Hyunsik drove him back, and when they stopped outside his apartment by the theatre he unfastened the seat belt hastily. 

“Early start tomorrow don’t forget, they need you in the practice room at eight.” 

“Don’t worry, I’ll be there”, Renjun sighed and put one foot on the pavement, the other one following as he stood, slamming the door shut behind him. He heard the car engine start again as Hyunsik drove away. 

The lights in the hallway came on automatically as the elevator doors slid open on the third floor. Turning to the right, he neared the dark wooden door of the apartment he had lived in for the last year. He kicked the door shut behind him and hung his keys on a hook on the wall, then ambled towards the open plan kitchen. All he wanted to do was sleep as he twisted the tap on and grabbed a glass from the cupboard above the sink. He gulped a mouthful of the icy water, slamming it on the draining board afterwards and heading to his bedroom. Crossing the polished floor of the large living area, he flicked a switch that closed the blinds automatically, shutting out the bright lights of the theatre district outside. 

He flopped onto his bed, staring at the ceiling, and when even that became too much, he closed his eyes, letting the events of the day replay like a movie in his mind. 

\--

Renjun tugged at the sleeves of the soft chequered shirt, it was a little big on him, but it had always been one of his favourites. The buttons were fastened over his chest, and he ran a finger past the top one lightly. It had taken him a while to choose what to wear, he didn’t want to be too dressy, or too casual, so in the end he’d settled for the shirt. He saw himself in the mirror, catching the gleam of the necklace in the glass as it glinted under the florescent light. 

He’d not stopped thinking about Jeno, and he still hadn’t when he walked out of the apartment. He didn’t have far to travel, but Jeno was not standing on the street corner when he arrived. Renjun saw the time on his phone, _nine-thirty_. He’d kept his head down on the way here, but there weren’t a lot of people around. He ducked, swiping out his phone again and pressing aimlessly on the screen, pretending to be busy. 

As the minutes passed, the doubt crept over him and he thought that perhaps Jeno had changed his mind, that he didn’t want to see him. Pushing the thoughts away he scrolled through his phone again until he was aware of a sound from a few feet away, small thuds, and his head shot up. 

He jumped backwards, startled, but saw Jeno. 

“Hey.” 

“Hey”, Renjun returned cautiously, staring at the skinny jeans that hugged Jeno’s legs and the jacket he’d wrapped around his frame. It was thinner than the one he’d worn yesterday, it suited him well. 

“You look nice”, Jeno dared. 

“So do you.” Renjun stuffed his phone into his pocket, giving his full attention to Jeno. He was beautiful, _still_ , he didn’t think there was a time in his life where Jeno had not been beautiful to him, but now he was something else entirely. 

“There’s a restaurant,” Jeno nodded to the other side of the road, past the theatre, “it’s not too far, we could try it.” 

It was intimate, the table for two towards the back of the restaurant, where the lights were dimly lit. He watched Jeno slip his jacket off his shoulders and hang it on the chair, revealing the polo shirt underneath, tight across his chest. 

Renjun snapped his gaze away, glaring at the wood of the table instead, then fumbling with one of the menus in front of him. He didn’t feel particularly hungry, and when the dishes arrived, and were laid out on the table, he picked at some of it, but not a lot. 

“How was the show tonight?”, Jeno asked as he bit into a dumpling. 

“It was good today”, Renjun answered distantly, “busy”, he added, pushing a piece of tofu around his plate and staring at it. 

“What’s it like?” Jeno smiled warmly, he had stopped eating. 

“What?” 

“To be adored.” 

Renjun shrugged, “I’m not adored”, he laughed, “I just like dancing.” 

Jeno peered at the plates in front them, and Renjun caught the blush in his cheeks as he picked one up, holding it out, “do you want more?” 

“I’m full”, Renjun waved his hand, declining it with a smile, “you have it.” 

“Are you sure?” 

“Yeah.” 

It was easier to talk to Jeno that evening. Renjun felt like he had his Jeno, just of a little bit of him back in his grasp, like he belonged. They left the restaurant much later, when only the light from the street lamps kept the empty pavements glowing with their warmth. They passed the corner where they had met earlier, and Renjun paused, wavering and then walking ahead of Jeno in the opposite direction. 

“Don’t you need to get back?” 

Renjun looked over his shoulder, as if it were nothing, “no”, he answered and turned around to the uneven pathway. 

“I thought you lived the other way.” 

“I do.” 

Jeno didn’t say anything, but Renjun heard him, the heavy patter of footsteps that ran to catch up. The glare of the city lights made him feel grounded, with Jeno at his side, among the chaos, chaos brought them together, it always had, Seoul was the perfect amount of chaos for them. 

Renjun swung his hand, _innocently_ , and felt the cool air in the gaps between each of his fingers. His hand fell back, and his fingers brushed skin that wasn’t his own, he knew that it was Jeno. 

They turned a corner. 

Renjun slipped his hand into Jeno’s, head down, regarding the cracks in the pavement. He pressed his palm onto the warmer one. 

Jeno’s hand didn’t move straight away, then gentle fingers wrapped around his, squeezing lightly, it felt natural. They continued like that, together, until Renjun lifted the hand that held Jeno’s and pointed to the top floor of the tallest building near them. 

“There’s a café up there”, Renjun’s fingers reached towards the tiny glass windows near the roof, “I used to go there in the evenings to look at the stars.” _When I missed you_ , Renjun wanted to add, but Jeno ran a thumb against the palm of his hand and he thought that it might have been in acknowledgement. Their hands were still locked together, but without thinking Renjun curled into Jeno’s arms, and Jeno wrapped his free hand around his shoulder, holding on tight. He placed his hand on Jeno’s hair, stroking the ends at his nape, and buried his head in the other’s jacket. 

_“Why did we hurt each other so much?”_ , Jeno murmured, cheek pressed onto Renjun’s. 

Renjun shook his head, nose brushing against Jeno’s neck, silent for a few moments longer, _“I don’t want to hurt anymore”_ , he whispered. 

He lifted his head reluctantly, he could still see the outline of the building behind Jeno. “You wanted to know who I am?”, he let go of Jeno’s hand finally, “I’ll show you.” 

\--

It was the next day that Renjun let Jeno into his life a little more. 

He was practising late into the evening when he received the text. Pausing to catch his breath, he ruffled his shirt to let the air in. There was no one else there, the cleaners had gone home hours ago, it would be easy to sneak Jeno in. He slipped through the hallways, already seeing Jeno’s shadow outside the smoked glass entrance, just a silhouette. Renjun gestured him inside to the warmth hastily. 

“This is quite out of the way”, Jeno said as he entered, pointing behind him at the industrial area he had come through. 

“It’s a converted warehouse.” Renjun replied, squinting at the bright lights that hung from the ceiling as he led Jeno along the sparse corridor. He slid open a heavy metal door and turned around, “this studio is mine, they gave it to me to use.” 

“All this is yours?”, Jeno asked as he stepped into the room, shutting the door behind him. 

“Only this studio, there’s others that the rest of the company use.” 

Jeno eyed the vast room, pausing on a doorway on the far wall. 

“That’s the gym”, Renjun spoke, opening the door and flipping the light switch on. The array of equipment lining the room was lit up. Jeno moved to a rack of free weights and reached to grasp a dumbbell, lifting it to his shoulder and then above his head. 

“What are you doing?”, Renjun joined Jeno, taking a weight and lifting it too. They both laughed, and Renjun set the weight down again. “I spend a lot of my life in here,” he saw Jeno replace the dumbbell, “and for the rest of it, when I’m not performing, I’m in the practice room just there.” 

Renjun walked back to the main room, and Jeno followed him. It was large, with smooth wooden panels on the floor and mirrors covering every wall. He saw Jeno’s gaze flick to the refrigerator in the corner, and the protein bars Renjun had left out on the table beside it. There was a sound system on the other side of the room, and Jeno looked around in awe as if in an unknown world. He sat cautiously on the black leather couch pushed against the nearest wall, wide eyes focusing again on Renjun. 

“Do you still love it?” 

Renjun leant against an amplifier, grinning, “of course I do, it’s my life.” 

“You’ve worked hard for it”, Jeno said. 

Renjun unfolded his arms and hummed gently, tapping his foot on the floor. “Do you want a drink?”, he rushed, walking to the refrigerator and tugging on the chrome handle. It was fully stocked; energy drinks on the top shelf, sodas on the second, and water on the bottom, just how Renjun always arranged them when the boxes were delivered to the warehouse weekly. 

“I’ll have a soda.” 

Renjun grabbed the drinks, closing the fridge and returning to the couch. He handed one to Jeno, their fingers brushing lightly as he gripped the wet metal. Renjun let his hand drop. He listened as Jeno pulled at the cap and the drink fizzed over the top of the seal before disappearing into the can again. 

Jeno chuckled softly, “remember when you used to dance for me?” 

“In the park, and in your room, I could never forget”, Renjun smiled as Jeno brought the can to his lips and swallowed. He squeezed his eyes shut, and opened them again, facing Jeno on the couch. “Would you like me to now?”, he asked quietly, “to dance for you?” 

Jeno peered at Renjun from behind the can, lowering it slowly to reveal the expression on his face. He let out a small shaky breath and spoke hesitantly, “okay.” 

Renjun nodded quickly, stepping slowly to the sound system. He wanted to dance for Jeno. “I was practising this earlier,” he flicked a switch, and radio static buzzed before he tuned it, “it’s a bit different from what I usually do, I’m trying out some contempory pieces at the moment.” He pushed a button, and the music started to play gently, he could still hear the sound of his feet on the floor, and his breath, as he stopped in front of the couch, looking at Jeno. He saw his own reflection in the mirror, the loose sweats rolled up around his ankles and white t-shirt that hung from his small shoulders. He tore his gaze away, shivering, and he wasn’t sure if it was just from the chill of the cold sweat down his back. 

He fell into the rhythm effortlessly and as he started to dance, he looked at Jeno again, sat on the couch, in a place that Renjun thought he would never see him again. A strange inspiration flooded his body, an urge, an impulse with every turn. He could see Jeno watching him, and it made him feel beautiful for the first time in years, it made his dancing feel beautiful. He caught glimpses of Jeno as he leapt and spun, and this time they were not part of his imagination as they had been so many times before. 

He held his ending position, stopping still for a minute and then panting to catch his breath as he went to switch the music off. His t-shirt was stuck to his back from the pooling sweat and he fanned it out again, pushing the damp hair off his forehead at the same time. He took a fresh towel from the counter by the fridge, pressing it onto his face, and the back of his neck, walking to sit beside Jeno on the couch. It dipped underneath him as he sunk into the softness. 

“What did you think?”, he smiled. 

“You move beautifully.” Jeno affirmed as he set the now empty soda can on the floor. 

Renjun bit his lip, deep in thought for a moment. “Why did you come to the show?” 

Startled, Jeno paused and took a deep breath before facing Renjun. “I had to see you, I told myself it was for closure”, he shook his head, laughing weakly, “but there was none.” 

Renjun looked deep into the warm brown eyes. “I would pretend I was dancing for you”, he said hoarsely, “and now you’re really here.” He wanted to stroke Jeno’s cheek, the skin looked soft, but he didn’t. He had realised that Jeno wouldn’t have wanted him all that time ago, he was a mess, he still was now, but something told him not to let go of Jeno again. He felt Jeno’s knee brush his lightly as they held the other’s gaze silently. Renjun focused on Jeno’s lips that were slightly parted, glistening under the bright lighting, and all he could see was what the past five years had lacked, right in front of him. 

“It’s not the same now, is it?”, Jeno murmured. 

Renjun shook his head, “we’re not kids anymore.” 

Jeno was the most beautiful person that Renjun had ever seen. They were close, their knees touched again and there was no longer a void between them. Renjun could see Jeno’s dark pupils staring back at him. 

_He had let Jeno go, why had he let Jeno go?_

“What do you want?” Jeno’s hands were shaking. 

_“You.”_

Jeno leant forward and boldly reached out to place a hand on Renjun’s face. 

It happened with a finger brushing his cheek softly, the feeling of their lips meeting, _the feeling of relief_ , engulfing him, washing away the pain. The kiss was not rough, but it was not gentle either – _reassurance_ – like Jeno was telling him he wasn’t going to leave. The lips were lingering and firm, soft, warm and moved slowly against his, parting cautiously. 

Renjun pulled away slowly. 

“I’m sorry”, Jeno whispered, but Renjun leant forward again, wanting more. 

Jeno held him there, a hand on his cheek, a thumb stroking his jaw, and the other cradling his head. The movements were tender, they were still hesitant, but he could feel Jeno follow him as he leant backwards, his back hitting the couch. Renjun pulled Jeno’s shoulders towards him and trailed his lips down Jeno’s skin, over his jugular to where his collarbone jutted out past a low-cut t-shirt, pressing a small kiss to it, then letting his mouth stay there. He could hear Jeno’s heart beating in his chest, and he listened to the rapid sound. 

_“I want to go back”_ , he whispered, placing his hand on Jeno’s chest, against his heart, _“I want to go back to how it was.”_

Jeno cupped Renjun’s face between his hands, still stroking his cheeks lightly. He clung to Jeno, as if to say, _please don’t leave._

“Who are you now?”, Jeno repeated, as he had done beside the river. 

Renjun squeezed his eyes shut, focusing on the feeling of Jeno’s fingers. 

“I’m lost.” 

Jeno pressed a small kiss to Renjun’s temple, “me too.” 

Renjun curled further into his chest, it was far from perfect, but he felt safe again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello it's elle again!! i'm sorry for the longer wait for this chapter it took me a little while to figure the noren reconciliation out - I hope you enjoyed the comfort after the hurt (although i can't promise all the hurt is over yet) - thank you for reading, comments and kudos are really appreciated!! (◍•ᴗ•◍)❤
> 
> [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.qa/renjunfairydust)


	9. Chapter 9

Jeno’s finger pressed the space bar on his laptop. Keys clattered noisily as he began to type, the aroma of coffee sweeping through the air from the cup by his elbow. The draught in his office ran from underneath the door and caused him to shudder involuntarily at intervals. He hadn’t even made it halfway through the report on his screen, and his shift had almost finished. Easing his chair further towards the desk, he squinted at the words glaring brightly. The stiff uniform was tight across his shoulders as he leant forward, pushing his glasses to the bridge of his nose. 

His concentration was fleeting though, and his eyes strayed from the screen to the window behind his desk, where light edged into the shaded room onto the walls in dull strips. He stopped typing, gaze stuck on the panes of glass that separated the office from the outside. Lowering his hands from the keyboard slowly, he stared at the clouds lining the sky. They were blanketed thickly, the blue behind them hardly visible past the hazy mass of grey. 

_He was thinking about Renjun, again._

It had happened before, familiar throughout the week since Renjun had danced for him, since they’d kissed, and there was nothing in Jeno’s mundane life that could eradicate the feeling of Renjun’s lips for longer than a few hours. He would have questioned why staring out of a window reminded him of Renjun, _he would have_ , if the kiss had ever left his mind in the first place. 

_It had been too much, the two of them alone in the practice room, and Renjun had not stopped. Jeno had not wanted him to. With Renjun knelt over him, he could feel his hot breath and every thump of his heart against his chest. Jeno had run a hand under Renjun’s shirt and rested his palm in the dip between his shoulder blades, feeling him gasp for breath when they broke apart. The moonlight captured Renjun’s face, damp hair touching his temples, lips wet and glistening. He had wanted more of them, Renjun’s touches, when he had pressed small kisses on the skin below his collarbones, hands on his shoulders, a slender frame pushing him back onto the couch, the closeness, the proximity, the intensity, mouths joined and lips parted with the taste of Renjun on his tongue._

Jeno coughed loudly, staring at the stark white office wall, and even though there was no one else in the room, he felt as though he had been caught in a forbidden fantasy and the guilt burned on his cheeks. 

To hold Renjun was all he had wanted for the last five years, but now it was so complex. The touch was not just a touch, touches had consequences when they weren’t innocent. Jeno missed the times that his and Renjun’s lives were ruled by simple emotions. He thought he was angry, but he wondered where exactly that anger had gone when he’d seen Renjun, because he seemed not to harbour it anymore. 

Jeno knew that he worked on a basis of logic, he always had, it was the way his mind was built, and that’s why he’d been the one to break off the kiss, everything was moving too fast and he couldn’t keep up. He had always done what he believed he should do; he had been with girls, because that seemed logical, and then he’d been with boys to try to fill the space in his heart. 

Renjun was not logic though, and the feelings that Jeno held towards him did not appear to have answers he could rationalise. 

It was the same feeling that pricked in Jeno’s stomach the day he went to see Renjun’s show, the attraction, the force pulling him back. Renjun had entered Jeno’s life when they were ten years old and changed it forever, they’d grown together, cuddled up in Jeno’s bed, or laying in the grass after school, the two of them against what seemed to be the whole world. 

Jeno understood logic, not matters of the heart, and when Renjun had first kissed him, they had only been children. Now, he thought that Renjun must have understood the heart better than he ever did. 

He smiled as he was flooded with the reminiscence of youth, but his lips straightened as he recalled how it was now. He’d spent the last five years trying to push all of those memories away, and now he didn’t quite know how to pull them back again. _The kiss_ , it had been so right, but wrong, he couldn’t rationalise what had happened, even a week later. 

Jeno’s elbow slipped from underneath him, knocking the cup and spilling his coffee over the desk. He reacted, pushing his laptop away hastily and jumping out of his chair. Fumbling in the desk drawer, he took out a packet of tissues and tutted under his breath as he pressed them onto the spillage. The coffee had begun to drip onto the floor, pooling messily on the tiles. 

“Are you okay there?” 

Jeno was still mopping at his desk when he recognised the voice of his boss, tensing immediately as he turned to the office entrance. Mr Moon was standing there, frowning and shutting the door behind him. 

“I spilt my coffee,” Jeno blurted out, stuttering awkwardly and throwing the tissue into the trash can under his desk, “I wasn’t watching what I was doing.” 

He saw Mr Moon nod, and the crease in his brow told Jeno that he was mulling the information over, carefully considering his next proposal. It was only Jeno’s fifth week working at the hospital, but he found that he liked his boss a lot. 

“Do you want to talk to me about something?”, Jeno asked politely, glancing quickly to the remains of coffee smearing his desk. 

“I came to see if you’re okay, you’ve been a little distracted lately.” 

If the coffee spillage was not enough, then the unfinished report on his laptop screen provided evidence that this was true. 

“You’ve been late to appointments, there’s mistakes in your reports, key bits of patient information are missing”, Mr Moon folded his arms, “this is people’s health and safety in your hands Jeno, you need to be focused. You started off so well, is everything alright?” 

“I’m really sorry”, Jeno lowered his head humbly, “everything’s fine.” He clenched his fists together, hiding his anxiety, “would you like me to correct those reports?” 

“I’ve added in what I can, but there’s a couple I might need to give back to you to look over.” 

“Of course, I’ll make sure it doesn’t happen again”, Jeno agreed, untensing the fists he had balled. 

“Do you want one of the senior physios to help you with it?” 

Jeno shook his head, “it’s fine, I should be able to do them myself.” 

“We’ll keep an eye on the reports, I’m sure we can get them back up to standard.” 

Jeno confirmed with a nod, he didn’t know what to say to make it better and watched as Mr Moon turned to leave. 

“And Jeno?” 

“Yeah.” 

“If you need anything, I’m here.” 

“Thanks.” 

Mr Moon left him in the office, and he took out another tissue from the packet on his desk, wiping it thoroughly on the last of the spillage. 

He thought then that there wasn’t much room left for logic in his life. 

\--

It was snowing that evening on the way home from work, and once Jeno exited the subway, he was stuck in the downpour as he trudged the blocks to his apartment. He was wearing his thick coat again, and it was zipped up to his chin, protecting him against the snow pouring from the overcast sky. 

He had tried to push the images of Renjun out for the rest of the day, and it had worked for a few hours, but he knew he’d been saving them up for now, _and he hated it_. He hated the distraction, the interference with his life, the overwhelming emotions. There were so many thoughts, but they were stagnant, repeating, and trapping him. 

Walking into his apartment made him realise how lonely he was, how empty everything was. 

He flicked on the lights beside the door and saw the room the same as he had left it that morning, unmade bed and bath towel slung on the back of the kitchen chair. It was a little cold, residual from the snow outside, so Jeno switched the heater on, unzipping his coat and hanging it on the back of the door. 

For a while following that, he observed nothing in particular, sitting at the table and tapping his fingers distractedly. The curtains were open, Jeno had not bothered to shut them before work, and through the glass he could see the evening dusk, the snow still falling. 

_Renjun had always loved the snow when they were younger, and in the winters he’d drag Jeno to the park where he’d often played soccer in the summertime. He didn’t like winter much himself, but he’d gone with Renjun and found that he’d quite enjoyed the sound of the snow crunching underneath his boots, or when Renjun had hurled a snowball at him when his back was turned._

Jeno wondered if he still loved it now, maybe he’d be watching the same flakes fall from the clouds the other side of the city, or had that changed too? _They weren’t kids anymore_ – Jeno was reminded of what Renjun had said. Renjun was right, they weren’t, but the comment was easy enough to be made and thrown away without much consideration. They weren’t kids, but Jeno didn’t know what they were. 

The snow grew heavier and it was darker outside, the glare from the ceiling lights obscuring his view. 

He snatched his phone off the table and dialled in a number. It rung and Jeno held it to his ear. 

_“Hello Jeno!”_

It had been weeks since he’d last spoken to his dad, and he hadn’t realised how comforting it would be to hear his voice now, or how much he needed it. He pressed the phone against his ear to listen better. 

“Hey dad-“ 

There was a rustling at the other end of the line that interrupted Jeno. 

_“Hold on, I’ve just got to turn the ovens down.”_

Then there was more noise, and Jeno assumed that it was his dad fumbling with the buttons of the vast bakery ovens. Jeno moved to the light switch, flicking it off and leaving darkness. He could see through the window clearly like this, the city lights below visible and pouring an orange glow into the room. 

_“How’s life in Seoul treating you?”_ , his dad continued once the sound at the end of the line had ceased. 

“It’s alright.” Jeno wasn’t lying, but he wasn’t telling the truth either, “work’s going well, and I’m all settled into the apartment.” He watched as a flake of white hit the sill outside, “it’s snowing right now.” 

_“It’s just been raining here”_ , his dad chuckled. 

“I was thinking about how long it had been since I’d called you.” 

He heard soft, familiar laughter. 

_“It’s nice to know you still think about me.”_

“Of course I do, dad.” 

There was a short silence before the other spoke again. _“How’s everything else, have you made friends yet?”_

“A few.” 

_“Met anyone nice?”_ , his dad paused, _“any girls?”_ , he teased. 

“No, not really, I’ve been busy.” Jeno shuffled closer to the glass, touching it with the pad of his finger and tracing along the edge of the buildings on the skyline. He could see the theatre district in the distance across town, and he pondered whether Renjun was somewhere in that direction, in the studio, or wherever he lived. “Seoul’s quite different from how I remember it.” 

_“In what way?”_

“It’s lonelier.” 

There was a longer pause, and the sound of a door opening and closing, an intake of breath. 

_“I’m sure it’ll get better, just give it some time. You hated it when we first moved here, not everywhere can be home right away.”_

Jeno knew he was right, and it made the sting hurt a little less. He sighed, his hand dropping, and he could see the marks on the glass from the heat of his finger. 

“Dad?” 

_“Yeah?”_

“What are you doing right now?” Jeno took the little snippets of home in his mind and tried to piece them together. 

_“I’m sitting on the front step outside, and right now I’m looking at the sky.”_

That was another thing that Jeno missed about home, the stars were brighter there, the light pollution did not distort them like it did here. He closed his eyes, picturing the image as he listened to his dad laugh again, but the scene transformed to Renjun, as it always did, Renjun outside the bakery, _home_. 

Snowflakes danced through the air, settling on the roads. He didn’t know if the buses would be running tomorrow morning. 

He inhaled shakily again, hating the feeling of vulnerability. 

“Dad?” 

“ _Yes Jeno?”_

The silence was longer this time, and more snow fell. 

“Renjun’s here.” 

It felt strange to say Renjun’s name out loud, even if it had always been there in his mind. Renjun had become an unspoken word between him and his dad, Jeno was aware that he knew something had happened. He didn’t know what, and he’d never questioned it, because he saw everyday how much it hurt Jeno. Silence followed the comment, until his dad spoke again. 

_“Renjun”_ , he said quietly, _“now that’s a name I haven’t heard for a long time.”_

“He’s still in Seoul”, Jeno added. 

_“Fancy the chances of that.”_

“Yeah.” 

Jeno could feel tears aching. They weren’t uncontrollable tears, or loud sobs that he stored, but they were painful. He held them for as long as he could, he couldn’t remember the last occasion he had cried. He wanted to now, but he didn’t want to let himself weaken. A sudden sting in his throat meant that he finally let them fall, landing on his cheek as the residue caught on his eyelashes and blurred the skyline. 

_“You used to be so close.”_

“We did.” Jeno wiped the first tear away with his sleeve, but the second soon fell, rolling down his face. 

_“I thought you two had a bit of a fallout.”_

Jeno brushed the other tear away, and he was grateful that no more fell. He remained quiet, afraid that if he spoke another tear might fall, but the painful sensation in his throat eased and he sighed with relief. 

“It feels like such a long time ago, I don’t think I’m even angry anymore”, Jeno admitted, “there’s no point holding onto anger, there’s more important things in the world to worry about.” He waited and listened as the sound of laughter resonated from the speaker of his phone. “What?”, he asked, smiling slightly as he listened to his father. 

_“You’ve grown up, Jeno.”_

Jeno supposed that was true, Renjun knew it too, he was not a child anymore, times had changed, and he’d grown and changed with them. He’d already lost someone important to him, and he missed her every day, he knew that people he cared about were worth holding onto. 

“He’s here, in the theatre now, performing”, Jeno was smiling a little this time, “people know his name.” 

_“So, you’ve seen him?”_

“I went to his show.” 

_“Renjun that used to come to the bakery every week”_ , his dad said fondly down the line, _“up on a stage now, I can’t imagine it”_ , he mused. _“Have you spoken to him?”_

“Yes.” 

_“How is he?”_

“He’s alright.” 

Renjun had never been one for talking much, but when they were younger they had found their way with it, but the Renjun now was an enigma. There were truths that his dad didn’t know, about all the years, the first kiss and the second, and the one now. Feelings were overwhelming, and talking about them even more so, that had always been both his and Renjun’s flaw. 

“Dad, I…“ He hesitated, the words wouldn’t form, because he was in denial of them, he paused and glanced at the horizon. “…I’m just really glad to see him.” 

He was scared of what his father might think, of what everyone might think, he didn’t know what he expected him to say, what he wanted him to say, so he kept it a secret still, the way it had always been. 

_“It’s amazing that he’s doing so well.”_

“Yeah, it is.” 

_“I bet you have a lot of catching up to do.”_

“It’s been a long time”, Jeno replied weakly, tilting his head to the side against his shoulder. 

Jeno thought about how Renjun’s lips had tasted in the practice room, and how they were moving against his, with a strange sense of harmony, the closest he’d felt to him since they’d met beside the boathouse. He would have tasted more if he could, but logic had stopped him. He could count on one hand the number of times in his life that he had kissed Renjun, but he knew they were the kisses that would stay with him forever. 

When the call ended, the temporary comfort it had brought to Jeno dwindled, and he stayed beside the window, one hand pressed flat against the glass, staring in the direction of the theatre district, where some of the lights had begun to fade with the night’s passing. 

He only moved when his phone buzzed from his back pocket some minutes later, he wasn’t aware how many, he was not counting them. 

It was a message from Renjun that simply read, _‘goodnight.’_

It wasn’t the first text like that this week, but it made Jeno smile, perhaps each one made up a little more for the lost years. 

He texted back and left his phone on the small table beside his bed, walking across the room to a cabinet near the couch. He pulled out one of the drawers, snatching the frame from inside it. He flipped it over, reminded of the grinning faces in the photo once again, and this time he smiled at them, he could make it come to life in his head now, remembering after it had been taken, and Renjun had run ahead of him towards the school gates, hair bouncing in the breeze. Jeno had chased him, following behind until they arrived at his house. 

He nearly put it away again when it reopened the wound in his heart. Instead, he placed it on top of the cabinet, propped up on display. 

\--

Renjun’s latest show was finished for the season, he’d told Jeno in one of his texts that the company had started training him for a new production. By Saturday, Jeno had not seen Renjun, their schedules did not align well but he couldn’t shake him from his thoughts. 

The snow had subsided, but it lay in banks at the side of the roads where they had been cleared, and the air was still frosty on his skin. It was lunchtime, and the grey clouds from the previous night had passed into blue skies. Renjun’s studio was a thirty-minute bus ride, and Jeno watched each stop pass by, until a handful of passengers alighted at the end of the route with him. He stopped at a café in a cluster of restaurants and food stalls along the street complex, leaving with a coffee in one hand and tea in the other. 

The roads were lined with tall buildings, tightly crammed together as he trekked the pathway that joined onto the industrial area, endless warehouses dotted across the land. His nerves were a little uneasy, he wanted to do everything right, the way it was supposed to be, because it had never gone that way between him and Renjun. The conversation he’d had with his father came to mind, what he had said, that not everywhere could be home right away. Renjun felt like home, but he wasn’t home yet. 

He looked at the cups he held, nervous as he approached _the_ warehouse. The sun was shining onto the building, and he saw it clearly for the first time without the darkness distorting it, a gravel pathway leading to the door. It was a low structure without many window, and dull blue paint plastered neatly on its walls. 

He tucked one drink between his arm and his chest, texting Renjun and waiting for a response, but none came. Peering inside the glass entrance, he saw the hallway filled with closed doors to different studios. Jeno opened his phone, there was still no reply on it. 

A door swung open, and he saw Renjun rush out of the room. He noticed Jeno and hurried towards him with panic-stricken eyes – _not what Jeno had been expecting_. Jeno could see that he was wearing his usual training outfit, the plain tee and sweatpants, but with laces hanging untied and loose from his sneakers. His hair had changed too, again, back to brown, and it reminded Jeno of the Renjun he always knew. 

Renjun pulled the door, and Jeno opened his mouth to speak. Before he could, Renjun gripped onto his coat sleeve, brushing past him and tugging as he dragged Jeno away from the entrance. His legs moved accordingly, following Renjun’s covert actions. 

They stopped behind an adjacent warehouse, slightly smaller with concrete steps leading up to a corrugated metal door. Renjun let go of Jeno’s sleeve, catching his breath. 

“What are you doing here?”, he gasped. 

“I brought you this.” Jeno held the tea out and he took it, clasping the cup between his hands. 

“Why are we round here?” 

“Someone might see.” 

The snow was untrodden behind the warehouse, only their footsteps imprinted in the white frost. Jeno also couldn’t help noticing the short sleeves partially covering the muscles of Renjun’s bare arms that flexed as he brought the drink to his lips and sipped. 

“Thank you”, he said, calmer this time. 

“I just wanted to see you”, Jeno gushed, sitting on the steps beside them. When Renjun didn’t follow, he frowned, “was that wrong?”, he implored and Renjun hesitated, still staring at him from the spot where he’d stopped in the snow. 

“Visitors aren’t really allowed.” 

“Oh”, Jeno answered. 

It was awkward again, but he moved, footsteps crunching, until he joined Jeno on the concrete step. He smiled shyly, taking the lid off his cup. Jeno was sure it was a distraction, but he watched as Renjun blew gently inside the cup, the liquid rippling in small waves. 

“I can’t stay for long.” Renjun peered around the side of the building and then back to Jeno. 

Jeno nodded and sipped the coffee. He was trying to keep up with Renjun now, maybe he’d always be stuck trying. It had been so long, so many years since Renjun had tried to keep up with him, that Jeno was used to it now. 

“You came to see me.” 

Jeno shrugged, but smiled at Renjun’s wide eyes, “I had the day off.” 

“No shifts?” 

“They change, but at the moment I have Saturday’s free.” 

Jeno didn’t know what to say, because there was something they were both very obviously avoiding. It felt even more difficult to address it than all those years ago when they were clueless teenagers. 

“What are you practising for?” 

“The new show, we’ve only got three weeks until it starts.” 

“Are you the lead?”, Jeno smirked. 

“Potentially”, Renjun grinned, hiding behind the cup as he drank more of the tea, “you should come and see it, you’ll find out.” 

Jeno laughed, but their smiles soon faded as silence pulled at the air again. 

“What is this place?”, Jeno asked, glancing at the warehouse behind them. 

“I think they store furniture here”, Renjun scanned the warehouses dotted in the expanse around them. 

Jeno nodded, and when he turned, he caught Renjun staring at his lips. The other blushed and quickly cast his eyes downwards to the snow-covered ground. The next minutes passed uncomfortably, but it was better than the sound from Renjun’s phone as it rang noisily in his pocket. He did not answer the call. 

“I should get back”, Renjun insisted, cup resting between his curled fingers. 

“It’s alright”, Jeno replied, even though he still didn’t understand. 

Renjun glanced at his cup, wincing slightly. He appeared a little helpless as he stood shivering in the snow. 

“I’ll take it.” Jeno held out his hand, and Renjun passed him the cup. 

“I’ll message you”, Renjun rushed. 

“Yeah.” 

He sighed as he watched Renjun disappear to the practice studio again, leaving footprints in the snow as he went. He had hoped it would be easier between them, but Renjun had put up his guard again, and he didn’t seem to want to let it down. 

He walked to the bus station with the two empty paper cups in his hand. 

\--

The encounter troubled him the next day, and the one after that. They were both keeping secrets. 

Seoul was not the same, a lifetime of friends and people had all been stolen from him by Seoul and its isolation. But Seoul had also given him Renjun back, so he had to be grateful, but they needed to talk, it had been so long since anything had made sense. 

He lay on his bed over the covers, restless as he twisted the sheets loosely. The evening had brought a kind of mellow sadness upon him. 

Renjun seemed alone, but unlike Jeno, it was something he’d had to live with for most of his life. Jeno was not alone, he had work colleagues, he got on with them too, but there wasn’t a lot of time for him to socialise and his family was far away. 

Jeno was lonely, and Renjun was alone. 

He might be seeking comfort in Renjun. They had always sought comfort in each other, so much so that it had torn them both apart at the seams eventually. He’d rebuilt himself, but now he was terrified that Renjun might slip away again. 

He turned over on the bed, and the springs stirred noisily as he looked at the phone on the table. He picked it up, the metal cold against his palm. It didn’t take long to find Renjun’s name in his contacts. 

_Meet me._

He sent the message and regretted it instantly, feeling the churning sensation in his stomach. 

_Where?_

_Anywhere._

They ended up in a café somewhere in the middle of Seoul. He’d not been there, but Renjun knew his way around, and when Jeno had walked through the entrance, he could see him at one of the tables in the dim light. His stomach lurched again, the thread between them pulling him in like it always had. 

The café was nothing special, decorated plainly, large tables and matching chairs with flowers in small clear vases. As Jeno got closer, he realised that the flowers were fake, imprints of the real thing, rather garish. There weren’t a lot of people around, but there were some, the rest must have gone home, been swept away with the onset of the late evening. Renjun was right in front of him, grey hoodie pulled tight around his chin and covering his head, as though he were trying to conceal himself. 

Renjun ordered a soda water, with ice and lemon poking out from the top of the glass. Jeno bought a slice of chocolate cake, decorated in thick frosting, they were displayed in cabinets at the side of the café. 

He took a fork from the napkin in front of him, holding it out in Renjun’s direction. 

Renjun shook his head, “I’m good, thanks.” 

“You love cake.” 

Jeno’s face fell, _Renjun was not the same person_ , he had to keep reminding himself that time had passed. He heard a small laugh rise from Renjun’s chest and he reached over, picking up the fork Jeno had put on the table. It took a moment of hesitation before he pushed it into the doughy cake, and it slid through to the plate below, Renjun scraping off a small piece and replacing the fork beside him on the table. He swallowed. Jeno watched his Adam’s apple bob in his throat and settle again. 

“It’s good”, Renjun said quickly, nodding to the cake on Jeno’s plate. 

Jeno took some himself, bringing the fork up to his mouth. He glared at the artificial flowers in between them with their plastic leaves, the conversation felt almost as fake as them, shallow and forced. 

“Are you okay?”, Renjun asked. 

Jeno relented, looking up at Renjun, whose voice seemed calm, but his eyes were fearful, clouded by emotions that were trapped in them, Jeno was unsure if he’d ever release them from their confinement. 

“I’m fine”, Jeno stated, “I just can’t stop thinking about what happened.” 

At that moment food was the last thing on his mind, and he placed his hands flat on the table. It was quiet, it would have been silent if it weren’t for the soft music ringing through the café, but Jeno could hardly hear it, instead drawn to Renjun. His face was almost the most perfect thing he had ever seen, the soft, inviting lips, parted slightly in anguish, the curve of his cheeks, and if it weren’t for the saddened eyes, Jeno would have called it beautiful. He expected Renjun to say something, maybe he wanted too much. 

“I want to know you, and I want to spend time with you, because that’s how much you mean to me”, Jeno knew it wasn’t just the kisses, it was everything else, he needed the intimacy. “You know, in the studio, I didn’t want to stop.” Jeno saw Renjun’s eyes flare, they caught the light from the ceiling and sparkled, like the stars were back in them, but it was only momentary, dulled as Renjun tilted his head to the side, waiting for Jeno to speak again. 

Now that Renjun was here, he was terrified. 

“I’m scared”, Jeno croaked. 

He did not know what he wanted Renjun to say next, perhaps he wished for him to be scared too, to know at least that he was not the only one afraid, but Renjun kept his emotions in his eyes. The boy with the stars in his eyes was much more than that, they held to key to everything about Renjun, and only he himself could unlock it. 

“You’re never scared of anything, Jeno.” 

Renjun put his hand on the table, it was close to Jeno’s and he wanted to hold it, but his own hands shook. 

“I know, but I’m terrified of this.” Jeno tried to keep his voice from wavering. 

He knew he was making Renjun uncomfortable, he was putting too much sentiment into his words. Renjun shifted in his seat, his hand edging closer to Jeno’s on the table, but it stilled again, as though Renjun had changed his mind. 

“I’m sorry”, Renjun murmured, and his fingers brushed Jeno’s absentmindedly, “I’ve been busy all week”, he held Jeno’s pinkie. “I want to see you more.” 

Jeno knew he had misunderstood, but at least he was trying. Fingers slid over Jeno’s again, he shivered but he didn’t rip his hand away. 

“I’m scared to lose you again, I’m scared I wont ever be able to find you, you said you wanted to go back to how it was”, Jeno breathed in deeply, still feeling Renjun’s fingers on his, like he were dancing with them, “I’m scared we’ve changed too much, but I just want you in my life.” 

“I want you in my life too, you’re the only person I’ve ever got close to”, Renjun said quietly. 

Jeno knew that, at least for the time Renjun had been in his life, he had never really formed an attachment to anyone else, maybe that was why he was holding Jeno’s fingers right now, like he couldn’t let go, it was his lifeline, his way of trying to connect with Jeno again. 

“I want this”, Renjun breathed. 

“Want what?” 

“Whatever this is, or whatever it’ll be, I want it.” 

He had stopped his movements, looking at his face and it made Jeno tense but for now it was what he needed to hear, he sensed that it was difficult for Renjun to say anything more than that. 

If Jeno had thought that he was vulnerable, Renjun was the same but amplified as he stared across the table at him and saw want in his eyes, clouded but present. He was always weak for Renjun, always. The gaze they shared was painful, filled with so much longing, and so much uncertainty that Jeno realised he may never be able to tear away, for the twisted sense of closeness that it brought him was practically euphoric. 

“Excuse me.” 

Renjun snapped his fingers away from Jeno’s hand at the sound of the voice, and Jeno startled as the pads of them slid over his knuckles, seeing the girl standing beside them. Jeno watched him stuff his hands underneath the table, clearly still flustered. 

“I came to see your show”, the girl rushed excitedly, rocking back on her heels as she addressed Renjun with a wide smile. 

“I hope you enjoyed it”, Renjun replied with a grin, Jeno stayed silent. 

Renjun was all bright smiles and calm composure as he addressed her politely and when she took out her phone and snapped a photo with him, he posed confidently as the camera flashed, but once she had finished and he had greeted her again, thanking her, he turned to Jeno. He pleaded with him wordlessly, eyes that were tired and worn, exhausted. It was possible that childhood had worn Renjun out, thinking for himself all the time, doing everything by himself simply because he had to. Now he had become part of a bigger machine, his life appeared dictated, he didn’t have to think for himself and perhaps he had forgotten how to. 

“Can we get out of here?”, he whispered. 

Jeno could sense that Renjun didn’t want to be alone, and neither did he, that was what terrified him most. 

When Jeno had suggested his apartment, Renjun had not refused and they’d left the café together, unfinished cake discarded on the table. It was late, and the bus station was empty, Renjun standing underneath the shelter with his hands shoved into his hoodie pockets as he snuck glances at Jeno in between ragged breaths that caused the air to cloud in front of his face. Jeno could feel each of them, but he only met a few, smiling cautiously. 

“Are you warm enough?”, he shot at Renjun. The other nodded and they were silent again. 

The bus arrived, pulling into the almost deserted station, and they climbed onto it, taking seats at the back. Jeno sat beside the window, Renjun in the seat next to him. He wondered how Renjun had coped on his own from such a young age. He was tough, a survivor, but it had taken its toll and he was closed off. He needed someone to love him, Jeno thought. 

The roads were uneven, and the bus jolted every time it hit a dip in the ground. It was late in the evening now and Jeno was tired, but every nerve in his body was electrified having Renjun beside him and it did not help at all when Renjun’s hand slid into his lap. Jeno didn’t have time to comprehend the action as Renjun searched for his hand, fingers running across Jeno’s skin again like they had in the café, more intimately now. He let them, because he was weak, and Renjun’s fingers found his, linking them together for a fleeting second before he let go, and slipped his hand under Jeno’s. It was cold as ice, but there was fire on his skin where Renjun touched it. It was a link, a connection, and even if Jeno knew it was superficial, it felt good. 

He stared at the window, the glass heavy with condensation. 

Their hands were laced together, and they did not say a word, not Renjun to Jeno, and not Jeno to Renjun, just silence, the bus jerking round a corner. 

There was too much that Jeno needed to know. Everything should be logical, but there was an irrational communication through the touches. He was aware of it, an explosion of all his senses each time Renjun ran a thumb past the skin near his wrist. It almost drove him over the edge. 

He glared out the window, focusing on the roads and the empty streets beside them, he saw lights and shops blur together through the glass, snow covered signs, anything that wasn’t Renjun. He knew if he held on for much longer he would not be able to let go, he fought the urges again. 

_Resist._

The bus jolted, and Renjun’s shoulder bumped Jeno’s, forcing them closer together. Jeno almost turned around. 

_Resist._

He told himself that he needed to. He guessed that Renjun wanted to see his face, but he couldn’t look at him. He leaned his forehead onto the glass, almost defeated, and the coolness pressed against his skin, in contrast to the fire that seared his hand. It was relieving. He closed his eyes slowly. 

_They were so lost._

He snapped his hand away, overwhelmed. 

Renjun didn’t say anything, but Jeno imagined he was hurt, that those dark eyes might have been glistening with tears. His chest ached again. 

When the bus stopped, Jeno lifted his head from the glass, and slowly, turned to Renjun. He did not need to imagine his eyes anymore, because they were right there, big, and round, filled with so many questions, but most of all, _pain_. 

Jeno stood up, and Renjun mimicked his actions, out of the bus onto the snowy street. 

They walked along the pavement, and as they approached Jeno’s apartment block, he grabbed at the key in his jeans pocket. Punching the buttons at the main door, Jeno pushed it as it clicked open and stepped inside. Renjun followed him up the stairs in silence. Jeno’s door was at the end of the hall. He slotted the key in, and Renjun followed him again, into the warmth. Jeno slid his coat off slowly and hung it up. Turning, he willed Renjun not to be looking at him. 

Renjun met his gaze and Jeno knew that he was a goner, every bit of resistance, all restraint, fell away with the glint in Renjun’s eyes, eyes like stars, eyes that sparkled how they used to, Jeno was hooked. Renjun blinked, dark eyelashes meeting soft skin and fluttering, but afterwards he was staring at Jeno, uncertain and biting his lip hesitantly. 

Jeno finally let go, stepping forward, until he was right in front of Renjun, their faces almost touching. Placing his hands on his cheeks, either side, he crashed their lips together, prying Renjun’s mouth open with his. 

Renjun had kissed him back even harder, breathlessly and fervid each time Jeno pulled at him a little more. He was yet to understand Renjun, but his mouth was everywhere, on his neck, at his jaw, pressing lips desperately onto his with force as he urged Jeno to take more and more from him, whining when their lips broke apart. 

Jeno took from him, backing Renjun against the wall of his apartment and pushing their bodies closer together, kiss heated as Renjun opened his mouth and let him in willingly. His hands slid to Renjun’s hips and he sensed him begging for more, leaning back, surrendering freely. He rolled his hips against Jeno’s thigh, pressing an open-mouthed kiss to the skin below his jaw and sucking on it lightly. The logical part of Jeno’s mind told him that he should have stopped himself, but the kisses trailed lower, and he was rendered powerless. 

Renjun’s fingers twisted Jeno’s shirt, and they stumbled along the hallway, lips still locked until the back of Renjun’s knees hit the couch. He fell onto it, pulling Jeno down with him and landing another kiss to his mouth, a little gentler than before, a little less frantic, but still needy. 

They broke apart briefly, so that Renjun could claw at Jeno’s shirt, sliding the first few buttons undone, and then dragging it over his head and tossing it to the floor. Jeno did the same to Renjun’s hoodie, tugging it off. Renjun was pliant underneath him and Jeno couldn’t help but stare at his softly sculpted chest, the dip of his flat stomach, the curve of his waist, chest rising and falling as the moon poured through the window and bathed him in its ethereal light. The necklace glinted as it rested on his naked skin. 

Renjun lifted a hand, palm outstretched and facing Jeno, as though he were about to touch him, but stopped. Jeno stroked his fingers gently down it, touching the soft skin tenderly, then looked back into Renjun’s eyes. They flickered, focusing on their joined fingertips. Jeno felt him start to curl his fingers, and he did the same, closing his hand around Renjun’s. 

Everything that they once were, and everything they existed as now, was held in Renjun’s expression, the history unravelled as he fell further, years of unspoken words. Jeno bent to kiss the smooth skin beside the chain, lips brushing the metal slightly, a connection as he moved across Renjun’s chest. He trailed lower, more urgently now, past his stomach and his hips, pressing kisses there until he reached the waistband of Renjun’s jeans, ripping at it hurriedly as desperation flooded his body. 

Jeno had been told before, that sex should mean something, and he hadn’t believed it until that day. It had felt so right yet still he struggled with the wave of guilt that washed over him afterwards, the sinking feeling, like they’d done something forbidden, irrevocable. He was so wildly conflicted, because with Renjun pressed against his chest, hugged tightly, he found himself. But he realised that Renjun was broken too, perhaps even more so than he was, and he wished he had been stronger. He wished that he hadn’t given in quite so soon. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ..... aaaahhh  
> hello! I don't know how this chapter will make people feel but I'd love to hear your thoughts!! Also, this story reached over 200 kudos last chapter and I really can't believe it!! thank you so much to everyone who has followed the journey of stargazers noren!!  
> twitter: renjunfairydust  
> [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.qa/renjunfairydust)


	10. Chapter 10

_Renjun’s hand pressed flat against a larger palm, a gentle hand, warmth between them and soft fingertips grazing his knuckles. Every touch skimmed his conscious, light touches charged with integrity, and ones that melted into greedy urgency. He’d never been as close to beauty before, never been able to reach out and touch it so tenderly._

Renjun opened his eyes. 

He felt heat covering him, peering at the sheet draped over his shoulders. Even with eyes that were doused in a haze of drowsiness, he realised that skin touched his skin too, Jeno’s hand resting laxly on his hip where the bone jutted out. He keened into the touch instinctively, stretching and reclining against it. 

Turning over, he saw Jeno through the shadowy dawn, cheek pressed into the pillow underneath his head, eyes closed, his chest rising and falling steadily. Long eyelashes curled over the skin below them, fluttering a little as Renjun explored every detail. He could only then muster the thought that beauty still lay beside him, when the morning dew had caught on the sill of the window and daylight stalked the sky, it had not been a cruel dream. 

Eventually Renjun’s head grew heavy, and he faced the other way, wriggling to fit his body perfectly into the curve of Jeno’s. He fell back into the rhythm of sleep like that, without much thought, except the warmth that pressed against his back. 

When he opened his eyes, he wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but the light outside was brighter, pouring through cracks in the curtains and lining the carpet. 

Everything that had happened etched itself into Renjun’s mind then, flooded it in a way that wasn’t at all gradual. It was more like a sudden sinking, a dread of consequence. He was safe again, _finally_ , and that terrified him - he had completely forgotten the feeling. His instincts had never favoured him, he fought them every day, he battled them now. They always told him to run away, but Jeno’s arms were comforting. 

Affection was a strange concept to Renjun, he wasn’t sure he had ever understood it the way that others did. He wanted it, but it was hard when he’d never felt close to anyone. He had found affection in sex before, so perhaps he had been searching for it last night, a sense of closeness. It was wrong, but it had comforted him, it always had with Insung, and Insung had given him the affection he craved because of that. 

Renjun ripped his gaze from the floor, eyes raking over Jeno’s apartment. The night had moved rapidly, and he had not had a second to look around before his hands had been on Jeno and Jeno’s on him. Seeing it now, he realised it was not large or complicated to navigate, bare walls, a kitchen and a plain couch, and a trail of abandoned clothing that lead to the bed. His clothes mixed with Jeno’s, crumpled sweaters overlapping jeans that had been thrown to the floor just as carelessly. 

The dread sunk into his body. He wanted to tell himself that nothing had changed, but he had no method of convincing himself that the words were true. A part of him did not want to believe that Jeno was beside him, despite it being exactly what he wished for. Jeno was not meant to be his, and all the reasons but the truth arose. 

_Desire_ , he stared at Jeno’s lips, pressed together softly, he wanted to trace them. 

_Pity_ , he trailed to Jeno’s eyes, maybe Jeno had pitied him, he was sure that Jeno had always pitied him, that when Renjun hurt, he hurt too. 

Another reason coaxed Renjun to turn, slowly, onto his side, and he was made sure that Jeno was there again. If the hand on his hip was not enough, the weight of his body was, and all the new sensations Renjun could not comprehend fluttered through him. He had wanted to feel, but now the feelings had become immense, and they overwhelmed him more than he believed feelings ever could. 

Jeno had not stirred, and Renjun feared to touch him, afraid that he might disappear if he did so. He was afraid, but he couldn’t help himself, wanting to take even more of Jeno in. He lifted his hand to Jeno’s face, running fingers over his cheekbone to the temple beside it, where he pressed lightly on the skin. Jeno did not awaken at the touch, placed too gently by Renjun’s cautious fingertips for him to do so, like he could shatter him as easily as glass. His whole life he had held Jeno up to be unattainable, unreachable, far away, but as he tucked the hair at Jeno’s temple behind his ear, satisfaction poured into him. 

_The instinct to run filled him again._

He shuffled backwards out of Jeno’s hold, but the thoughts did not cease, and he panicked, void of the warmth that had grounded him. Kicking the sheet away, he was robbed again of heat as he moved towards the clothing trail. He swiped his jeans first, stuffing his legs hurriedly inside, and fastening the zip, taking the sweater that laid nearby. 

He heard the jostling of the sheets from behind him, and straight away Renjun knew Jeno had woken. Jeno did not speak, the noise in the room dying down to the quiet hum of unsteady breaths. He still wanted to run, but he resisted, gripping the sweater tight, and willing himself to look at Jeno. He was afraid of what he would see if he did, what expressions Jeno’s face may hold, he would not understand them even if he were to see, so he kept glaring at his hands, angry at himself. 

“I wanted it”, he said finally, and the sigh that caught in Jeno’s throat let him know he’d been heard. 

Renjun urged himself to move, to bring the sweater over his head, but he stayed clutching it. He heard a sound and guessed that Jeno had tossed the sheets off himself, much like he had minutes ago. He wondered if Jeno felt the cold too, not just from the wintery air, but the emptiness of not having warmth wrapped around him. Footsteps sounded, calm, but louder with each one. They stopped, and the heat that Renjun craved ghosted his back, before arms wrapped around his slender frame, Jeno’s head buried into the crook of his neck, naked chest pushed against his back. Renjun clenched his fists, the hold around the sweater tightening. 

_“Please don’t go away again”_ , Jeno whispered just below Renjun’s ear, and his lips brushed the skin. 

Renjun let himself be held and nodded as he leant into Jeno’s shoulder, it was easier than speaking. He closed his eyes and tuned all of his attention into how Jeno’s body fit against him, and for a moment his doubt eased. What it made him feel reminded him of reassurance, but it couldn’t have been, because his hands still trembled. 

“I’ve got to go to work”, Renjun mumbled, and very slowly, Jeno’s hold loosened. 

He raised the sweater over his head, continuing his movements as he was engulfed by it, and turned finally. The sight of Jeno made his chest tighten and still he could not speak – _only stare_. He knew what Jeno felt like, the taste and the touch and all of that drove him wild still. This time he could see Jeno’s eyes too, opened wide and the only element that he could detect in them was astute sincerity. Renjun wanted them to fade into their usual softness, the one that he used to know, and so he smiled hesitantly, which earnt him an equally matched smile from Jeno, before both expressions faded naturally. 

Renjun’s gaze strayed from Jeno, stuck on what was behind him, the cabinet next to the window. _Not the cabinet_ , but the frame settled on top of it precariously. Forgetting everything else, he walked to it, crossing the carpet and plucking the frame off the top shelf. 

“You kept this?” 

Renjun smiled gently at the version of himself captured in the photograph. He had not seen that Renjun for a long time, the grinning one with an arm around his best friend he assumed would be there forever. 

He glanced over his shoulder at Jeno and lifted the frame for him to see. 

Jeno hesitated, but answered, “it was the only one I had.” 

Renjun placed the frame carefully where it had been, sorry that he had disturbed it and saw the boy who had longed so desperately for the Jeno beside him to reciprocate even the smallest amount of the same feelings that burdened him. 

He used to tell himself that _nothing_ made sense, he looked to Jeno now and thought actually how much easier feelings had been then. 

\--

He was twenty minutes late to the studio. 

Even rushing away hurriedly from Jeno’s apartment had not prevented it. The bus had come late too, and he’d had to slink through the entrance of the warehouse, as though he had not been running to get there. But in the end it was obvious in the way that he stood to catch his breath as he looked at Hyunsik loitering in the doorway. 

“You’re late.” 

“I know”, Renjun replied as Hyunsik moved out of the way so he could step inside. 

“At least you’re here now, you’re wanted in the practise room.” 

Renjun gave him a final regard, an acknowledgement with the small nod of his head and went through to the changing room. It was empty, and so he dressed in silence, hanging his bag on one of the hooks above a bench like he always did. 

Most days he would practise alone, but when he entered through the door to the studio, his trainer was there. 

Renjun could barely hide the discomfort when he began to warm up, the twinges that shot up his back when he threw his leg over the bar and reached for his pointed toes. He stretched through it, relaxing as he eased into his routine. 

“We’ll work on the choreography in the third act today”, his trainer said as he walked to the amplifier and switched it on, “can you show me what you’ve been practising through the week?” 

Renjun nodded compliantly and adopted his usual starting pose, heels pushed together, and arms raised to his middle, curving outwards. The music played, and his coach started to clap the rhythm out, Renjun following in time. 

Although it had been merely minutes, it felt like too long since he’d thought of Jeno. Ballet usually took him away from everything in his life, like he wanted it to, but it couldn’t block this out, and so he let himself slip into the corners of his mind that held the memories of Jeno, all of them. He raised his arms above his head, letting them rest there for a few drawn out seconds until the tempo of the music increased and he dropped them, spins becoming more frantically assembled. 

_He should have known better, but instincts took over and drove him._

He continued to dance. 

_He had been beautiful, when their bodies were moving together, even more than when he danced, when his hands were splayed across Jeno’s back, when his fingernails dug into Jeno’s shoulder blades each time the pleasure became too much for him to bear._

He saw that Hyunsik had come into the room, probably to check his progress he thought as he spun, seeing him seated on the couch. Renjun did not want him there, the couch did not belong to him in his eyes. 

Energy coursed all the way through him, perhaps too much of it, and Renjun overshot his landing. He was thrown into a stumble until he regained his footing, but the mistake was long enough to be noticed. He listened as the music was cut off, halting completely as he stopped in the middle of the floor and parted his feet to steady himself. 

“The movements aren’t sharp, they’re lazy, it feels like something is holding you back.” His trainer leant towards the sound system again, pressing the switch and the music played softly from the beginning. “Did you warm up properly?” 

Renjun nodded, stony faced as his eyes flicked to Hyunsik, who observed from his place on the couch. 

“Let’s try it again then.” 

As he danced, he knew that he wanted Jeno to be there with him. He had become greedy now that he’d had a taste. It used to be sufficient to keep him in his thoughts, all the time through ballet school that one notion had kept him going, but now that Jeno was here it wasn’t enough. Again, he pictured Jeno in the room, and his movements were a little softer, a little more natural with the imaginary presence of his muse. 

And then he landed badly again. 

“Take a break, we’ll start up in fifteen”, his trainer said once the track had played through. 

Renjun took out a soda from the fridge and closed the door, watching as Hyunsik and his trainer spoke in hushed voices, he could not tell what they were saying but he knew that it would be about him. He walked across the room, to beside the door, crouching and slipping his shoes off his feet. 

He saw Hyunsik move in the distance, calmly, towards him. Renjun looked at the floor, he was not in the mood to speak, and even when Hyunsik stopped, he kept his breath steady, watching him discreetly as he placed a hand on the door. 

“Fix it”, Hyunsik murmured in Renjun’s direction and left. 

He practised alone after that, dancing the same leap that had held him back repeatedly. It had not happened, failing something that to him might be considered so simple, but his mind had never been occupied with so much. There wasn’t meant to be any interference with his ballet, it was the place where he was perfect, always. 

He watched himself dance in the mirror, but eventually gave up, distracted by his own reflection. Stopping in front of the glass, he hardly recognised himself, he saw the tiredness for the first time, sunken eyes and dry lips. He pulled at the edge of his shirt modestly, trying to cover his exhausted body, but when he looked into the glass, it was still there, and every insecurity crawled back to him. His ballet was not perfect, and he was not perfect. 

He slammed the curtain across the mirror and continued to dance. 

\--

Renjun grew increasingly frustrated. The next few days were the same, it went well occasionally, but the leaps were not to standard, some moves sloppy and disorganised. He tried not to think about it too much, to only concentrate on getting it right but the flaws were still there. 

He had snuck Jeno into the studio one night during the week because they’d not had time to meet. Renjun still needed to practise, it was always like this before a new show, everything became more intense, late nights when others had already left, and repetition until everything was perfected. 

Jeno was sitting on the couch, his legs crossed, and laptop perched on his knee as he typed at the keys. He’d told Renjun that he’d finish his reports while he practised. Renjun had not seen Jeno wearing glasses, but he found they framed his face elegantly. He had changed out of his work uniform too, into casual clothes, jeans and a warm sweater that clung to his chest. 

It was comfortably quiet, the music from the speaker filling the silence as Renjun tried to focus on each step. He was soothed by the noise of Jeno tapping on the keys, a constant reminder that he was there. His confidence grew and he attempted the leap once more, jumping high in the air, lunging forward as he formed splits, but the landing was off again, and pain spread from his ankle from the awkward angle. 

Renjun winced, sucking in breath through his teeth. 

When the sound of tapping keys stopped, Renjun looked up at Jeno - who watched with concern. Renjun turned, continuing to press his feet onto the floor in an attempt to ignore the shooting pain in his leg. 

“Come here”, Jeno insisted. 

“It’s fine”, Renjun murmured, refusing and springing forward. The pain rose again, and he gave into it, limping cautiously to the corner of the room, switching the music off and returning to the couch, sitting beside Jeno. 

“Give me your ankle.” Jeno gestured for Renjun to lift it, but Renjun stared at him blankly and wrinkled his nose. “Don’t worry, I know what I’m doing”, Jeno laughed. 

“Aren’t you working still?” 

Jeno closed his laptop, setting it on the couch, “I can finish up in the morning, I was getting tired anyway.” 

Hesitantly, Renjun raised his leg and Jeno’s fingers began to brush his skin, transforming into slight pressure. 

“It’s just a pulled muscle.” Jeno trailed up Renjun’s calf, massaging gently, “was that piece from the new show?” 

“Yeah”, Renjun hissed in discomfort, “they think it’ll make more money than any of the shows we’ve done yet.” 

“Which ballet is it?” 

“It isn’t really, it’s new, it’s been choreographed for the company, a show made up of solo dances”, Renjun tried his best to explain the details to Jeno, who nodded, taking the words in as though they were the most important ones he’d ever heard, so Renjun kept talking, because he seemed interested. “It’s based on concepts, you know, vices and virtues, good versus evil, opposites and contradictions, that sort of stuff.” 

“Which part are you?”, Jeno asked, pushing up the leg of Renjun’s sweatpants to his knee, feeling around the joint carefully. 

“Vice”, Renjun answered, grinning at Jeno and leaning into his touch a little more. 

“And someone else dances virtue?” 

Renjun nodded, “I don’t know who yet, they haven’t said.” 

“Don’t you have to train together? ”Jeno applied a little more pressure to Renjun’s leg. 

“They only come together at the end, like in conflict before balance and harmony”, Renjun smiled at the concentration on Jeno’s face. The pain had eased a little more as he relaxed, and when he closed his eyes, Jeno’s touch became the only thing he could focus on. His stomach swirled with sensations that rose to dizziness in his head and an ache in his throat – he was hyper sensitive to every bit of contact from Jeno. 

He shifted on the couch, pulling his foot away. 

“Thank you… but I’ve got to get on”, Renjun said, and took a few steps forward, “are you okay to stay for a little while?” 

“Yeah”, he heard Jeno answer softly. 

Renjun stopped in the centre of the room, giving Jeno a small smile. “I like it when you’re here”, he admitted, not waiting for Jeno’s response as he drove himself a little harder and began dancing again. 

\--

Three days later, Renjun pushed himself over the edge. It was on another evening that Jeno had joined him. 

Renjun had still not found it in him to address with Jeno what had happened, what they were, he still didn’t know, and therefore he did not seek the answers. These days he thought to the times when he had felt just the right amount of everything, when his emotions were driven by impulse beside the river with Jeno, but the perfect amount of it not to destroy him. He recalled too, the times in his life where he had felt nothing, when he had begged to feel because he had so deeply forgotten how to when he’d lost what meant the most to him. As he saw Jeno on the couch that day, he was reminded of everything that was overwhelming, the feelings that had arisen now, too many to keep in check or to process. 

Jeno was entranced by Renjun that day, he did not bring his laptop, or any work, he simply focused on Renjun’s dancing. 

The movements were desperate and Renjun clung to his shirt with a clenched fist and clawed at it, pulling his body forward to follow. With Jeno right in front of him, Renjun became a little lost in the movements. He knew that Jeno was watching, and it added fire to the vices he danced freely. _Sin, envy, greed, lust,_ he was all of them and the passion they invoked in him as the dance brought thoughts of Jeno’s hands on his body - making him breathless. 

He neared the same part of the dance, where the leap threw him forward, and his footing slipped again. 

It didn’t hurt him this time, but the ache of failure that tightened across his chest was enough to make him crumble. He felt his very own vices, the ones inside of him, the destructive forces, taking over as he pushed them away, trying again, fixated on doing better. He saw a glimpse of Jeno’s shadow as he leapt, he had to be better because Jeno was watching him. He turned the music off to focus on the section, moving to the centre of the room and leaping again, but it still wasn’t right. 

He repeated it until he knew his frustration would boil out of him, all the anger at himself, it was like he was ready to burst. 

_“Renjun.”_

Jeno called him, but he didn’t want to meet his gaze. 

He tried again, it was worse. 

_“Renjun, you’re going to hurt yourself again!”_ Jeno cried out to him but he could barely hear it, caught up in his trance, repetition, obsession. He heard Jeno get up from the couch, still dazed, but the hand on his shoulder jolted him and he tore away from it. 

“I have to do it, it needs to be right!”, Renjun snapped, and if he wasn’t so occupied by everything else, then he would have realised how frantic his voice sounded. He pulled away from Jeno’s hold, moving to jump again, but Jeno stopped him, a hand on his arm, _“no!”_ , he shouted. 

Renjun stomped to the wall, slamming his hands on the mirror, and hearing the sound of the glass shudder, the sting across his palms shooting through him. It didn’t take long for Jeno to catch up with him, and the next moment he had grabbed at Renjun’s wrist and spun him. He felt his back hit the mirror. 

_“Stop it!”_ Jeno yelled. 

Renjun flicked his head to the side in surprise to see Jeno’s fingers wrapped tightly around his small wrist, preventing him from moving it. He could have easily escaped, but he didn’t fight. This close he could see Jeno’s eyes flooded with sadness, like they no longer recognised him. Renjun matched the look, back into the dark pupils, holding it there, completely silent, breathing heavily as anger still surged through him. Anger at his dancing, at himself, at not knowing how to cope, he let it take him over. 

Jeno breathed steadily, not letting go of Renjun’s wrist. 

Renjun wanted Jeno, he wanted him always, and he wanted him right then. When he looked into Jeno’s eyes again, conflicted with restraint and desire, a flame that seared his skin as they drank in every part of him, he knew that Jeno wanted him too. 

_“I can’t do it.”_ Renjun choked on the words, his throat constricting. It had been so long since he’d had comfort and so he knew he would cling to any chance of owning a piece of it. He was losing control, the balance had been tipped. He knew it was not good to sound so desperate, to let something so base be the driving force of distraction, Jeno was so close that Renjun felt each of his soft breaths fan his cheek and he wanted to forget, to numb the feelings with the very thing that had inflicted them – _self-destructing_. He leaned in and filled the gap, his lips sliding over Jeno’s easily, glossy and parted, ready for taking. _“Please”_ , he begged. 

The rest followed easily, Renjun yielded to Jeno, letting him take all that he wanted. He arched against the mirror, as though willing Jeno not to hold back, movement still restricted by the grip on his wrist. It was intoxicating to him, the kisses dangerously inviting. His free hand tugged at the bottom of Jeno’s shirt, asking for attention and Jeno understood, plucking it away and pinning it against the mirrored wall too. He pressed another urgent kiss on Renjun’s mouth, hot enough to devour them both. When Jeno’s lips brushed his throat, it felt like they were burning Renjun’s skin, he was sensitive to each one and he whined, pushing himself against them. 

He slid his wrists out of the grip and fumbled frantically with Jeno’s belt buckle, and before he knew it his own chest had hit the mirror, Jeno was exactly where he wanted him. They had been apart for years, and all they needed was to feel, feel each other, feel emotions and to feel what it was to live. Renjun knew that and he poured it into every movement, every moan, every gasp as Jeno’s hand tugged his sweatpants down. 

He watched himself in the mirror, the way his face contorted. He hardly ever looked at his face, but now it felt trance like. In his narcissistic state, he saw the expression it had been lacking for so long, his soul laid bare, it was hypnotic. 

He met eyes with Jeno in the mirror only for a moment, intense but fleeting, before he threw his head back and shut his eyes, hands sliding down the glass each time he was driven against it, leaving steamy prints. Leaning up, he mouthed under Jeno’s jaw wantonly, like he was floating, unable to speak, wrecked. He was vice and Jeno was virtue. All he could see was Jeno, all he could feel was Jeno as he fell apart in a way that would piece him back together again. 

They sat against the practise room wall afterwards, Renjun in Jeno’s arms, pressed onto his chest. He was broken down, his head completely cleared as he curled into Jeno’s hold. There was no more anger, it had disappeared and left only tiredness. Jeno had not shown him mercy until that point, and Renjun had not wanted him to, but now he kissed the delicate skin of Renjun’s wrists, alternating between the two where his grip had been. Renjun placed his head on Jeno’s chest and closed his eyes, feeling his heart beating heavily. It raced to begin with, slowly coming back to its resting pulse. Renjun counted the beats in his head, that was how he knew the minutes were passing. Jeno felt more perfect than he would ever be. 

Renjun’s breathing was erratic, he couldn’t speak, but he didn’t need to, to let Jeno know that he felt safe in his arms. 

\--

Renjun spent the whole of the next day in the studio. 

He had been there since the early hours of the morning, and already he could tell that he was calmer than he had been through the week. It reassured him that the dancing had come to him more naturally, although his focus still lacked a little. 

He had taken a break and was leaning with an arm against the bar as he wiped the damp from his forehead with a fresh towel and slung it to the floor, when Hyunsik had walked in through the door. 

He knew that Hyunsik had seen him making mistakes, knew that the slip ups had not gone unobserved but right now he was too worn for words, a little too distant from the world of ballet and so he watched him cross the room silently. Hyunsik stood in front of Renjun, catching his eye and staring at him. Renjun regarded him coldly, elbow still pressed onto the bar. 

“You look so tired”, Hyunsik said and Renjun could be fooled that the voice held concern, “you always look exhausted these days.” 

Renjun paused, “I’m alright”, he answered, turning to face the wall but was stopped as Hyunsik spoke again. 

“Your formations aren’t up to standard, it isn’t like you at all.” 

Renjun knew already, he didn’t need to be told any of it, and so he stayed quiet and let Hyunsik continue. 

“You need to take care of yourself better. It’s a cycle you know, you ought to get an early night or two, you wouldn’t make so many mistakes then.” 

“I’ll try harder”, Renjun offered in return, “I just need to practise more.” He bent to pick up the towel from the floor, feeling the front of his shirt dip down. He crumpled the towel between his fingers and faced the bar with the intention of continuing his moves. 

“What are those?” 

The words were cold, and they ripped through Renjun like ice, tearing him apart as his heart dropped. He thought he had been careful enough, glancing at where Hyunsik was focused on the marks that Jeno had left on his skin, marks that he’d placed equally onto Jeno. 

His heart beat faster. Reacting quickly, he yanked up his shirt to his neck, eyes still wide as he stared speechless at Hyunsik. The confidence had dripped away into pure panic in his attempt to cover them, but the damage had already been done. 

It all happened suddenly, the way that Hyunsik’s hand reached out to the collar of his shirt, and the fingers that tore it down to get a clearer look at what he had seen. Renjun tried to block him desperately but he still pulled at the fabric that stretched to reveal the marks again. It happened so fast that Renjun failed to notice until it was too late, the weight of the chain around his neck loosened, the noise of the pendants crashing onto the hard studio floor. They bounced, scattering, the silver star and moon and Renjun didn’t care about Hyunsik anymore. He heard the echo and it spurred him to run to collect the beads where they had fallen, fumbling hastily to pick them up before they might disappear forever. They were tiny in his open palm, and he wanted to hug the metal to his chest and apologise to it, apologise to Jeno, but he would not weaken in front of Hyunsik. He stood and looked at him again, stare like searing ash. 

“You’re distracted”, Hyunsik said, glaring at the marks that Renjun’s shirt now covered, “we have a new production in a _week_ ”, his voice had raised to an angry hiss, “and you’re just messing about with someone. Mistakes, slip ups, for _fuck’s_ sake Renjun, no wonder your performance is affected.” 

“You broke it”, was all that Renjun could reply, still watching the snapped chain and pendants he clutched in his hand, tightly now, like he didn’t want to let go. He meant the words to sound assertive, but he could tell they came out as broken. 

“Now more than ever”, Hyunsik continued, unrelenting in his words, “your energy needs to be on that stage, not in someone else’s bed.” 

Renjun’s eyes widened and he glared at his manager. “You broke it”, he spat again. The wires inside him snapped and he tightened his fist around the chain and sprinted out of the studio. The door slammed shut behind him, and Hyunsik did not follow, so Renjun guessed that he must have been feeling at least some sense of guilt. He threw open the door of the changing room. The lights were turned off, and only the sun filtered through the frosted ceiling window. He sat numbly on one of the benches, holding his palm in his lap, opening it slowly as though that would prevent what was inside from being there. He saw the chain, it did not sparkle under this light, dulled with the pendants laying lifelessly beside it. 

The two things that meant the most in the world to him were conflicting. Ballet and Jeno, colliding and confusing everything that he had always known. There was no way that he could ever choose between them, and he begged that he would not have to. Perhaps he was selfish for wanting both, but it felt like he could have neither. 

The end of the chain had fallen through his fingers now, suspended below. He’d kept it safe for five years and now that Jeno was back it had been ruined. It was ironic, but Renjun did not laugh, hurting with guilt instead. He hated himself for making mistakes, but he loathed himself even more for the broken chain that lay in his hand. He knew that he had to continue, to prove that he could get it right. He slid the necklace carefully into the pocket of his bag, zipping it shut so that it was safely stored. 

He danced for the rest of the day, Hyunsik did not appear again, and every leap was perfected with a surge of determination, but every time the flood of relief hit his system, it was washed away by the guilt of the broken necklace that lay resting in his bag. 

\--

The evening brought the onset of more snow, it fell heavily from the sky once Renjun had left the studio that night, his bag slung over his shoulder. He had moved the chain out of it, slipped it into the pocket of the duffle coat he’d wrapped around himself to shield him from the snow. 

He did not go home, crossing town instead by foot. The snow had not been cleared from the roads yet, and this late, a lot of it remained untrodden. Renjun left footprints behind in it, but each one made the guilt fill him again. 

The outside of Jeno’s apartment block was also covered in freshly fallen snow that piled up around the entrance, and Renjun’s boots sunk into the icy drift as he stood outside. They had not planned to meet, and Renjun had not told Jeno that he was going to be here. He ran his finger slowly over one of the pendants in his coat pocket, before pulling his hand out and pushing the buzzer. It rang loudly, and within seconds the crackle let Renjun know that Jeno had answered. 

“Jeno…”, Renjun hesitated for long enough to let Jeno know that it was him, “will you come for a walk with me?” 

_“Renjun?”_ Jeno’s voice sounded distorted through the intercom, _“what are you doing here?… wait there, I’ll come down.”_

Renjun pressed his back onto the brickwork of the apartment building. More snow fell, catching in his hair and on his cheeks as he grew more anxious. He wiped at the skin, the ice melting away into water at the press of his hot fingertips, then shook his head so that some of the flakes fell away. 

Jeno appeared, seeming as though as he had just thrown on his clothes. Renjun had not realised how late it was until he saw Jeno’s unbrushed hair, the sweatpants and large coat that he zipped up as he came through the ground floor entrance. 

He looked at Renjun and smiled softly, “you want to go for a walk?” 

Renjun nodded, both of his hands were still stuffed into his pockets. He pushed himself off the wall with his elbows, shifting to stand beside Jeno. 

“It’s late, is everything alright?” 

Renjun hummed unresponsively as they started to walk along a street he was unfamiliar with, the lamps above them casting light onto it, onto them, he wasn’t looking at Jeno, but he could see his shadow in the snow. He kicked the snow with his feet, and it rose in clouds, settling again on the fresh white. 

“Did practise go okay today?” 

“I didn’t screw up”, Renjun answered bluntly. 

It was silent, Jeno waiting for him to elaborate, but when he didn’t, he continued, “well that’s progress.” 

“Yeah.” 

“Have you eaten today?” 

“Yes.” 

All the time Renjun clutched at the broken chain crumpled in his pocket, cradling it and trying to seek comfort, but it gave him none. 

“Was there something you wanted to talk about?”, Jeno asked. 

Renjun paused, trying to conjure the right words. They walked on in the quiet, until Jeno stopped. 

“Renjun – _you_ just made the effort to come here, _please_ , at least talk to me”, Jeno implored, not moving from his spot in the snow and waiting for Renjun to speak - he didn’t and so Jeno continued to fill the gaps, pressing his palm to his forehead in distress, “we’ve had _sex_ twice and you can’t even talk to me, did that not mean anything to you…? Because it sure as hell did to me.” He laughed wryly, it was not a soft laugh, dry and forced to fill the awkward silence. 

Renjun panicked, tightening the grip around the chain, and before he had considered better judgement, he pulled it out from the pocket of his coat, all the pain disappearing into the air as his palm opened weakly to reveal the necklace. He knew that he was close enough for Jeno to see it. 

“It’s broken”, Renjun said just above a whisper. 

The silence got heavier as Jeno’s eyes met with it, and Renjun only tore his eyes away from it to see Jeno’s response. He was staring at Renjun’s palm, in the place where the chain lay. There was hurt in his eyes, a kind of disappointment that Renjun had never seen in them and for a moment he thought that he might have broken Jeno too, he’d run out of words for Renjun. It filled him with relief though, that Jeno might be angry, like some kind of punishment that might ease the guilt he felt for allowing it to be broken, but Jeno’s voice remained unwavering. 

“What happened to it?”, he asked calmly. 

Renjun’s eyes pleaded silently, he couldn’t give Jeno any answers. He couldn’t because he thought pity to be a useless emotion. All emotions were useless, but pity was the worst of the lot, and he was sure that Jeno would pity him if he knew. _Pity made people weak._

Jeno moved first, placing a hand underneath Renjun’s outstretched one, closing it around Renjun’s fingers so they curled around the chain and hid it out of sight. Renjun knew already then, that Jeno was not angry. 

“It’s okay.” 

“No, it isn’t, it’s broken”, Renjun protested, but Jeno kept his hold around his hand. 

“It’s alright, we’ll get another chain for it.” There was still hurt nestled deep in Jeno’s eyes, Renjun could see it shining with the moonlight, it was a deeper hurt, it had been in Jeno’s eyes for longer than just that evening. Jeno let go of his hand, his fingers sliding away and leaving Renjun cold. “You used to tell me everything, we used to share all of our secrets.” 

Jeno looked as though he were searching, and Renjun felt empathy stir in his core. Jeno had not been vulnerable to him, but right now, on the quiet street corner of Seoul, as Jeno’s hands began to curl into fists, Renjun let his guard down. 

_“I’m scared too, Jeno.”_ It was a confession, a return for all of Jeno’s, complete honesty with him, and with himself too, _“I’m scared of how much I need you, everything keeps going wrong and I don’t know how to make it right again.”_

Renjun took in a little more of Jeno’s pain with the comment, backing against the curb and sitting there weakly. Whenever the world teased him with something good, it always gave him bad too, that was how he had learnt it worked. He wasn’t looking at Jeno now, and placed his cheek flat on his palm in utter defeat, it pressed into the skin. 

He heard a few muffled footsteps crunching into the snow. They stopped, not close enough for Renjun to consider them nearby. 

Something hit his back. He was startled, lifting his head and glancing at the pile of snow that had crumpled onto the ground behind him. He looked up at Jeno, whose hand was still curled from where he had hurled the snowball at Renjun. He could not stifle the laugh that rose from his chest upon seeing Jeno’s childish grin. 

Renjun dug his hands into the nearest bit of fresh snow beside him, bunching it together and pressing it into a ball. It was cold on his fingers, but he lifted it carefully, standing and tossing it at Jeno. It hit his chest, falling to the ground, and Renjun laughed louder. 

Dodging Jeno’s next throw, he dived sideways and watched the failed attempt land on the pavement. He stopped to create another and throw it at Jeno. It took him back to years ago, he knew that Jeno had intended it to, because it was comforting to live in easier times. As he hurled a snowball in Jeno’s direction and it hit his cheek, he knew it was respite from their fears. 

For now, he walked slowly to Jeno, doing what he had never been able to do when they were younger. He brushed the remnants of snow collected on Jeno’s cheek, and placed a small, tender kiss there. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .....in which elle gets a little sad over writing chapter ten of stargazers lilies........ but hello everyone!! I'm so interested to hear thoughts that people have, reading comments makes my day!! thank you once again for reading!! ♡♡♡♡  
> twitter: renjunfairydust
> 
> [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.qa/renjunfairydust)


	11. Chapter 11

“What sort of style are you looking for?” 

The jewellery shop was empty except for Jeno and Renjun. Jeno had not been surprised by this, it was the one near his apartment. He’d never been in, but on every occasion that he had passed by on his way to the hospital, he’d not seen it busy, in fact, he’d wondered if people ever went in there. Now inside, he looked around at the polished counters and high shelves of glittering gold and silver laid out behind clear glass frames, spotlights cast pristinely over each stand. 

His attention snapped back to the man behind the counter who had just spoken with a gentle lilt. He appeared to be somewhere around fifty, middle-aged, hair greying at his temples. Lifting a tray from the drawer beneath the counter, he placed it between them. The noise of it meeting the glass echoed around the empty shop, but the room fell silent again as he carefully began rifling through the many silver chains. “We’ve got box chains,” the man’s fingers ran over them, “rope twists, or just a classic link.” He raised his head, craning his neck as he waited expectantly. 

Jeno turned to Renjun, whose woolly scarf was wound around his neck, the duffle coat pulled up to his chin rustling as his attention left the tray to meet Jeno’s gaze. His hands were stuffed into his coat pockets, lips pursed in thought. 

“Which one do you want?”, Jeno repeated to him. 

“I want one like the old one”, Renjun replied, the words a little stuttered, as though he had been stuck in a dream. He shook his head, addressing the man behind the counter, “the link chain, please”, he answered, and Jeno could tell the smile he formed was a little forced. He took his hands out of his coat pockets and clasped them together in front of him. 

Renjun had been like it since he’d shown up in front of Jeno’s apartment the previous evening. He’d stayed the night, because by the time they’d returned from their walk in the snow it had been late, they were both exhausted, too tired to consider any alternative. Jeno didn’t ask any more about the necklace, about what had happened to it, _it didn’t matter then_. What did matter was Renjun zoning in and out of conversations, _distracted_ , hands held together like they were currently. He remembered the habit from when they were younger, from the day of his first recital in high school, to his audition in the city, Renjun had gripped his hands together whenever nerves overwhelmed him. 

_It hurt Jeno most, more than the broken chain, that Renjun hurt right now._

“Is there a specific length you want it?”, the man behind the counter continued, hand hovering over the link chains. Renjun pulled his scarf down and pointed to the top of his collarbones, hands grazing the dip between them, like he expected the necklace to be there. The man nodded swiftly and pulled one of the chains out of the tray, holding it up to the light, it sparkled. “Did you want to try it now?” 

Renjun nodded and held out his hand, the chain dropping into his palm. He pulled down his scarf again with his other hand, putting it on the counter while he took the loose pendants out from his pocket and fastened them onto the chain. The tiny moon and star fell to the centre of it, the chain pulled down by the new weight. The once lonely pendants seemed complete on the new chain as Renjun lifted the silver, draping it around his neck. He began to fumble with the clasp, tutting as it slipped out of the hook and fell. 

Jeno moved instinctively, fingers sliding over Renjun’s until he felt the metal. Renjun’s hands fell away, and he stood completely still as Jeno fastened the clasp carefully. 

It reminded him of years ago, beside the river at home, when they had been safe, a haven that felt far from the real world. He’d placed the necklace around Renjun’s neck so gently when they were sixteen, and it was gentle again now, Renjun’s nape against his fingertips. It had been cold that time, chilled by the bitter evening in the grass, but now it was warm like fire, _enticing_ , hot from where the scarf had been. 

It took him back further than that too, to an era in which his mother was alive. Those memories were harder to recall, but he plucked them from the corners of his mind, the years in which the necklace had not belonged to Renjun. He could still make out the fading image of it hanging on the jewellery stand next to his mother’s dressing table, the times he used to run his fingers over the silver and the gold with wide eyes, hypnotised by the glint against the light from the bedroom window, or when it would be settled around her neck on the times she picked him up from school. Then, _after she was gone_ , and they’d been clearing her room out, he’d seen it. Jeno had picked it up from the stand, wanting to cry, to sob, but he held back. He had asked his father if he could keep it, because it reminded him of her, and it always would. It stayed safely in a box under his bed for the years that followed. 

When he was sixteen, he had thought about his mother, how she had only wanted him to be happy. It had seemed so simple then, to give it to the one person in the world who brought him the most happiness, a silent promise. He had wanted Renjun to remember him, to keep a piece of him close, and so he had given the necklace to him. It had been part of his childhood in more ways than one, and there had also been a time when he thought he would never see it again. 

He watched Renjun give a small nod, running his fingers over the pendants that rested between his collarbones. 

“Would you like to have it wrapped?”, the man asked, tapping the keys on the cash register. The sound filled the quiet room, and Jeno looked up from the back of Renjun’s neck. 

“No, thank you, I’ll wear it now”, Renjun answered quickly, fingers sliding away from the pendants. Jeno pulled his wallet out of his pocket, taking a card from the front compartment. He stopped when Renjun turned to him, shaking his head and digging into his own coat pocket. “I’ll pay for it, I broke it”, he said, taking out his card and pressing it to the reader. 

Jeno didn’t protest, but he saw how Renjun’s hands shook as the reader beeped softly, transaction completed. 

Leaving the shop, they walked the already trodden pathways of white snow, the blast of cold air icy compared to the warmth of the jewellery shop. Jeno could not help but wonder how they would be once the snow melted, when winter changed to spring, there was still months left until that would happen. He turned, the fur around his hood tickling his chin, and saw Renjun running his fingers absentmindedly over the pendants of the necklace as he stared into the distance. _He did not mention it once again._

They stopped at a junction that split in two directions, one leading further into the centre of town, and the other back to the suburbs. Renjun turned to Jeno, “I’ve got rehearsals this afternoon”, he touched the pendants again, “I shouldn’t really have stayed over.” He didn’t make any attempt to move. “Jeno, you know I won’t be able to see you this week, don’t you? It’s always intense the week before a new show, they’ll be watching to make sure it’s perfect, that all of us are ready.” 

“I know, it’s alright”, Jeno smiled, weakly. 

“You’re still coming, aren’t you?”, Renjun asked. 

Jeno reached for Renjun’s scarf, it was soft, and he saw the necklace disappear beneath it as he pulled it up to cover the bare skin. “I’ll be there.” 

\--

The week that passed until the opening night of Renjun’s new show felt like it dragged slowly for Jeno. 

In ways it had done, every aspect of Jeno’s life felt mundane since Renjun had come back into it, counting the hours until he saw him again. 

The day after Renjun had left his apartment, he’d tried to distract himself, with soccer games on the television, or going for runs, anything he thought would take his mind off the fact that he missed him. Work had helped, it had been the distraction that he needed, he was back on track, the reports were better, and he was more focused on his patients. There were sporadic texts from Renjun too, just saying hello, and training updates, he’d met his dance partner. It was reassuring and it made everything more rational than it had been. 

Jeno had found ways to make each day pass, some quicker than others, but all leading to where he stood that evening under the setting sun. 

The theatre was larger than he had remembered it, spotlights all around it in the darkness, and it was busier, so much busier than it had been for the last show with spectators dressed smartly, formal suits and dresses. He guessed it was for opening night, and he’d tried to make the effort himself too. Jeno crossed the road and the lights became brighter, glaring as they blinded him. He felt self-conscious in his outfit, tugging at the white shirt that was stiff around the collar. It loosened, and he felt as though he could breath again, only for a moment, before he became aware of how close Renjun was, behind the theatre doors, past the crowds of people. He smiled to himself. 

Joining the end of the queue winding around the side of the building, Jeno took the ticket out from his bag. He waited, taking small steps forward each time the line moved, edging closer to the front of the old building. 

The posters lit up on the walls of the theatre distracted him, Renjun dressed as vice, a close up of his face. He was not smiling in the photo, it was different to the one that had been in its place when Jeno had come to see _Giselle_. The picture showed Renjun’s hair styled messily, head tilted, cocked sideways and dark rings of shadowy make up above and underneath his eyes. The makeup wasn’t light like it had been before, and neither was Renjun’s expression, stare cold and piercing, it seized him completely. 

The line moved, and he was forced forward, ripping his gaze from the picture as he followed the crowd, just another part of it, a stranger watching a ballet show. Lights inside the theatre came closer and as he reached the ticket office, a young woman wearing bright pink lipstick nodded at him. She wore the same uniform as the others around her, pale blue shirt with white around the edges of the sleeves and smart black trousers, her hair tied out of her face. Her smile widened as he came closer. 

“Your ticket, sir?” She held out her hand expectantly. 

Jeno was still dazed, “oh, yes”, he handed her the paper, and she took it, tearing it at the top and passing it back to him. 

“Enjoy the show”, she said with an even larger smile. 

“Thank you”, Jeno replied, folding the ripped ticket, tucking it into the inside pocket of his coat and walking inside to the warmth. 

He already knew, that as he stepped through to the stalls, he had entered another world, just as he had done the first time. It felt like that again, the unfamiliarity, the noisy buzz of conversation as he found his seat, the smoke-filled stage, hazy through the lights hanging from the ceiling. He sunk into his seat, sliding his coat behind him and setting the programme he’d bought at the main entrance onto his lap. 

He wasn’t watching Renjun as a stranger anymore. 

He held the thin booklet in his hands, fanning the pages. He traced the foreign words with his finger – _péchés mortels_ – _deadly sins_. Opening the first page, he was restless as he read the words, inspecting each one. It was a description of the show, the conflict of vice and virtue, everything that Renjun had told him when they’d sat on the floor together in the nights at the warehouse. _Renjun was vice_. He saw Renjun’s name under the cast list, and this time he allowed himself to trace it with his finger, _‘Huang Renjun’_ , every curve of the detail on the paper, ‘vice’ in small font underneath it and another photo of him smiling printed in black and white. _He didn’t look like vice at all._

When the glare of the lights in the auditorium began to dim, a spotlight cast onto the smoky stage. Jeno could not deny the thudding of his heart, or the rate at which it beat as music began to play. It was soft and gentle as the curtain rose, revealing the line of dancers in leotards. They moved fluidly, but one figure emerged. Jeno looked down at the open programme, _virtue_ , he recognised him from the photo beside Renjun’s. He saw virtue move to match the tempo of the music as he glided across the stage. Virtue was tall, taller than Renjun, slender frame, sharp nose, high cheekbones, elegant as he controlled his moves, white ribbons on his sleeve fluttering as he drew his arms sharply above his head. 

It was when the music began to pound that Jeno’s heart beat faster, because it was when he saw Renjun. The pace quickened, heavy crashing sounds of the orchestra as Renjun appeared at the back of the stage. Jeno was closer this time, his seat was nearer to the stage, but he knew Renjun would not see him over the glare of the spotlight. Renjun’s wrists were bound by red cuffs on each, eyes smoky, loose grey vest. It’d been five days since he’d seen Renjun, he didn’t look like the same boy as the one he’d walked the streets of Seoul with. He moved just as beautifully as he had done the first time Jeno had watched him perform at the theatre, but his form was harsher than virtue’s had been. He sprung up behind virtue, in the centre of the stage, wrapping his arms around his shoulders, clawing. Virtue threw him off. 

It was virtue that lifted the dancers, and vice that dragged them down, there was conflict between them. Renjun drew the other dancers in, and they followed him like the pied piper, all of them. It was clear, good and evil, virtue and vice, virtue pulled at vice and vice pulled at virtue in sequence, feeding each other’s egos. 

The battle ensued, at one-point mellowing as Renjun met virtue at the front of the stage, their faces coming close. Jeno felt like the narrator, watching Renjun’s heaving breaths, the spotlight focusing on them, unbroken eye contact, false fury burning between them as each tried to overpower the other. He saw the expression in Renjun’s face, it seemed raw and real, more expression than he’d ever known it hold. Virtue pulled at one of the cuffs on his wrist, but vice twisted away before he could rip it off. Vice weakened, caught, and Jeno saw Renjun’s face flash with something that resembled panic, it was so realistic that he had to remind himself that it wasn’t. He had never been like that. Jeno felt it strike him like lightening, the raw emotion in Renjun’s eyes. 

They ended in the centre of the stage, arms intertwined, inexplicably attracted to each other, faces close again, virtue holding Renjun the way that Jeno wanted to, his head resting on virtue’s shoulder, the same way that he wished to connect with Renjun – vice had given up the fight - like yin and yang they filled the space between them . _The world was not all good, and the world was not all bad_ , it was an equal balance, and that balance could not be tipped. They looked like they belonged together. 

He couldn’t help the knot in his stomach, the familiar sinking sensation, that Renjun could connect only through dance, perhaps. The stars weren’t just in his eyes when he danced, they were everywhere, a spectacle for Jeno to watch. On stage Renjun’s emotions were physical, they were the point of his foot, the strength in his legs, they were burning across his face so clearly with feral instinct. 

Jeno was brought back into the real world when the crowd erupted into applause and the curtain dropped. Renjun disappeared out of sight. He was left speechless. 

He waited outside the stage door, as he had done so before, and it was heaving with crowds of eager people wanting to catch a glimpse of the dancers out of costume. He stood amongst them, holding onto the straps of his backpack as he waited, but not filled with the same sense of dread that he had been all those weeks ago when he’d last been in this position. In its place, Jeno felt a strange sense of calm. 

The dancer that had played virtue came through the stage door first, clutching an iced coffee in one hand, and laughing as he looked behind him and held the door open for Renjun. Both of them had dressed down, make up wiped off and hoodies covering their styled hair. Jeno noticed Renjun’s wide eyes, straining over his shoulder, as though he were searching, until his gaze found Jeno. He smiled, wide, before his attention was drawn back, turning to say something to the other dancer as they were ushered towards a car parked up on the sidewalk. 

Once the buzz of people had subsided, it grew quiet, and Jeno sat on a bench at the side of the theatre, away from the lights, exactly like Renjun had told him to do. Then, he waited, with his bag resting in his lap. 

His head shot up when he heard quickened steps against concrete half an hour later. He saw Renjun alone, rushing towards him along the street, lit by lamps above them. He grinned, hair still wet from where Jeno guessed he had showered, he’d changed clothes, duffle bag still slung over his shoulder as he stopped at the bench. 

_“Jeno”_ , he breathed, like he wanted to say more, like he was going to throw his arms around Jeno, or speak again, but he didn’t, panting steadily. 

“That was amazing, I can’t believe it, I’ve never seen you dance like that before, _ever_ ”, Jeno said. 

“Ever?” 

“Yeah”, Jeno laughed, rising from the bench and wrapping his coat tighter around himself. Renjun joined beside him, smiling. He laughed again, “I could have just met you at your place, you know?” 

Renjun hesitated, smile dropping as he clutched tighter at his bag strap. “It’s better like this.” 

\--

Jeno had never seen Renjun’s apartment. 

He had not had much of a chance to now either, because as soon as Renjun had shut the door behind them, he’d thrown his bag to the floor, and pulled Jeno in towards him. He put both his hands on Jeno’s face and kissed him. Jeno smiled into it, stumbling slightly, but using Renjun’s waist to steady himself as he let his hands rest on it. 

“What was that for?”, Jeno had asked when Renjun finally pulled away. 

“It’s been a week, I _missed_ you”, Renjun had answered, holding Jeno’s face like he didn’t want to let go of it. 

He viewed the inside of the apartment properly now. Renjun had not exaggerated when he’d said the block was close to the theatre, it shone through the window overlooking the city. Jeno scanned the open-plan room, stripped floorboards and white walls, a king-size bed in one corner of the apartment, made messily with crumpled sheets. A wardrobe faced the bed with a full-length mirror attached to the front of it. Apart from that, there wasn’t much else, it was minimalist and empty. Jeno thought that perhaps all of Renjun’s life really was on the stage. “It’s so…”, he glanced at the designer lamp next to Renjun’s bed, “not what I was expecting… _fancy_ ”, he finished. 

“Oh, yeah, that”, Renjun laughed, walking to the kitchen and pulling on one of the cupboard doors, _“try living in the same building as your manager”_ , he mumbled, but spoke again before Jeno could properly process the statement. “Are you hungry?”, he asked, inspecting the contents of the cupboard again. “There isn’t much food here, I can go to the store across the road and get something if you want?” 

“Alright”, Jeno replied, lifting his coat back over his shoulders where he had begun to shrug it off, “want me to come with you?” 

Renjun looked uneasy as he closed the cupboard door. “No, I’ll go, you stay here.” 

Once Renjun left, Jeno was alone. He didn’t know what to do, he didn’t want to intrude, but he couldn’t help but stare at the empty apartment, and the new view of Seoul at night that he’d not seen. He walked to the window, staring out at the city lights. Renjun had let him into his life a little more, it was small steps, but Jeno was afraid that big ones would break them both. 

He pressed the switch on the wall and the blinds covered the window, falling slowly into place and taking the view of the city with them. 

He moved back to the bed, where he’d left his bag, and pulled out a box he’d been carefully keeping in there since before the show, he bought it from a bakery on his way to the theatre. He opened it and checked the small cake inside. Some of the white cream had smudged onto the side of the box, but the strawberries lining the edges had remained intact. He smiled, carrying it to the coffee table in the lounge area and setting it down as he sat on the white leather couch. He pulled out his phone and waited for Renjun to return. 

When he did, the front door slammed loudly, Jeno seeing Renjun haul a plastic bag of shopping and dump it on the kitchen counter. He smiled when he saw Jeno, glancing down. “What’s that?”, he asked, dropping the shopping he had begun to unpack, it fell messily over the counter. 

Jeno lifted up the box. “I thought we could celebrate, you know, opening night”, he grinned and set the box back on the table, seeing Renjun shake his head and laugh softly as he stepped out from the kitchen area towards him. 

_“I grew up in a bakery, what do you expect?”_ Jeno laughed and a small grin spread over Renjun’s face as he inspected the cake. Jeno saw his eyes become a little glassy, but he couldn’t be sure because Renjun blinked and the expression was gone as he smiled and thanked him. “We can have that after dinner,” he chuckled and dragged Jeno back to the kitchen with him. 

The kitchen counter was covered in colourful food packets. Jeno raised an eyebrow sceptically, _“packet ramen?”_ , he teased. 

“There wasn’t a great selection, plus, I thought it’d be quick”, Renjun protested, frowning. Jeno watched him turn the gas on and the flame underneath the saucepan flickered as it was ignited. 

“If you say so”, Jeno laughed, taking one of the packets and tearing the foil. He dropped the noodles into the pan. It bubbled, and he watched them rise to the top of the pan, disappearing again slowly beneath the boiling water. Renjun was leaning an elbow on the marble counter top, watching silently. 

“Your dance partner for the show, _virtue_ , who is he?”, Jeno asked, curiosity getting the better of him. 

Renjun pushed himself up, swiping another packet and ripping at the jagged edge and tipping the contents into the boiling water. “His name’s Junhui”, he said casually and smiled, “he’s new to the company, he’s a couple of years older than me, but we get on alright, actually, he’s Chinese too.” 

Jeno nodded slowly, scolding the familiar twist in his stomach as he saw the water boil over. He turned the heat down. “You danced really well together.” 

“Did we?”, Renjun asked, pulling out two ceramic bowls. “I’m surprised, it was sort of last minute.” He held a bowl out, smiling at Jeno. “Here.” 

Jeno felt the jolt pulse through him: it wasn’t jealousy, but it wasn’t familiar, it wasn’t a feeling that he’d had to feel about anyone, because _anyone_ was not Renjun – Renjun kept Jeno hidden, and Jeno did not understand why he was always hiding, what he was hiding from, because Renjun wouldn’t tell him. He did not take the bowl. 

“What’s wrong?”, Renjun asked, setting the bowl back down and frowning. 

Jeno hesitated. “It’s nothing”, he paused, Renjun still waiting for an answer. “The way that you two were, the way that you were, you danced like you really felt all the emotions, you connected with him.” 

“It’s acting, Jeno.” 

“I know.” 

They moved to the couch, bowls of ramen in their lap. Jeno watched Renjun pick slowly at his, bringing small mouthfuls to his lips. 

“How many weeks left of the show?”, Jeno asked. 

“Twelve more”, Renjun replied in between another mouthful. 

The apartment was quiet. It reminded Jeno of the progress they had not yet made, the silence, everything that held them back. It seemed that dancing was the only time that Renjun wasn’t held back, that he was free, Jeno wondered if that was the reason why he loved it so much. It all became a little claustrophobic, with Renjun beside him, the blinds shut, the artificial light from the bulb fixed to the ceiling. 

“This reminds me of when we came to Seoul for your audition, remember, in the hostel?”, Jeno broke the silence, seeing Renjun peer up at him from his bowl of watery ramen, “we ate crappy food out of packets from the store on the corner of the street.” He laughed, and so did Renjun. It was a time where everything had been easier, it hadn’t felt it back then, but it was. As Jeno looked at Renjun now, he knew that it had changed, that everything was different, and that he couldn’t go back in time, the world did not work like that. He sighed, face more stoic than it had been. _“Renjun”_ , he coaxed, “why wouldn’t you let me come out with you earlier?” He saw Renjun touch the pendants on the necklace, “why do we always have to hide away from the world?” 

Renjun stared at Jeno, as though he had caught him in a trap. In a way he had, because Renjun had nowhere to run. He winced like someone had plunged a knife through his heart, setting the unfinished bowl of noodles down on the table and sighing, leaning in closer to Jeno, almost close enough for Jeno to feel the heat from his body. “It isn’t the world Jeno”, he said quietly, “it’s the company.” He brought his legs up from the floor, crossing them. “They aren’t exactly fond of us being in relationships, you know, _distractions_ , especially before new shows, we’re not focused if we are. It isn’t forbidden, but they don’t like it.” Renjun hesitated. “I don’t want them to know it’s you, I don’t want to share you with anyone. Like I said before, it’s better for both of us.” He snatched his unfinished ramen bowl off the table, taking Jeno’s empty one too and walking the sink. 

Jeno watched him run the water over the bowls, cleaning them slowly and setting them on the draining board to dry, still quiet and pensive. 

“I understand, and it’s alright.” Renjun looked up from the dishes at him. “I just wanted to know.” 

“That’s why I wanted you to come here tonight,” Renjun came to sit next to Jeno again and motioned around the empty apartment. “I wanted everything to feel normal, _just for once_ , because every other time it doesn’t.” He looked at Jeno, voice raising in volume. “I want it to feel how it used to feel. I just want to do ordinary things, like this”, he nodded between them, “like sitting on the couch, like watching shitty sitcoms on the television with you.” 

“Like cooking packet ramen together?” 

_“Like cooking packet ramen together”_ , Renjun repeated, stressing each syllable emphatically. 

It broke the tension a little, and a small laugh rattled from Renjun’s chest as he breathed out. “I don’t care what it is, it doesn’t matter as long as it’s with you. I love ballet, but I wanted one night where I didn’t have to think about it.” 

Renjun wasn’t trying to hide then. Jeno reached for the television remote control left on the arm of the couch, and without thinking, pressed the button at the top. He heard Renjun sigh happily as the screen brightened and a random channel appeared, flashing colourfully, noisy. _“Like this?”_ , Jeno asked. He knew he was only smoothing over the cracks. 

“Yeah”, Renjun smiled, closing his eyes for a second and untensing. 

The television stayed on until both of them had grown tired of it, until the loud voices of the actors became grating, ringing through the room. They had shared some of the cake, Renjun eating only a small amount of it, but smiling as he did. Jeno had not been sure if Renjun had been paying attention to the programme, but he watched the screen with a vacant expression as Jeno became more focused on the rhythm of his breathing than any other sound. Renjun’s eyes began to close eventually, as though he were fighting sleep, and Jeno found himself questioning how he had managed to stay awake for this long after such a day. He noticed Renjun’s head go limp, tilting back on the couch as he tried to keep his focus on the screen. 

“Tired?”, Jeno mused. 

Renjun yawned. “A little bit.” 

It was late, and after more nagging, Jeno had managed to convince Renjun to at least get into bed. He set the remaining cake in the refrigerator, and they both changed, Jeno into his shorts, and Renjun into a large t-shirt that reached the middle of his thighs. They lay silently over the covers, faces close. For a moment it felt comfortable. Renjun looked relaxed in the light from the lamp on the bedside table, the only source of warmth in the room. His eyes were open, dark hair splayed over the pillow and watching Jeno like he seemed reluctant to sleep, like he didn’t want to let go of the evening. 

“Thank you”, Renjun said quietly. 

“Huh?” 

“I feel like me.” 

Jeno watched Renjun’s eyes flutter past him to the mirror on the wardrobe, staring, like he was obsessed with his own reflection. His face changed, from a smile to a grimace as he shifted uncomfortably, kicking his feet. Jeno noticed. He touched the pendants on the necklace, _again_. 

“You keeping doing that.” Jeno nodded to Renjun’s fingers on the chain. He snapped them away instantly, hiding his hand under his head. 

“I hadn’t noticed”, Renjun murmured. Jeno saw it then: guilt, in the corners of his eyes, fleeting. “It’s just a habit.” 

Jeno reached out, he didn’t have to move far, fingers touching the pendants, feeling what Renjun felt, the cold silver against the pads of his fingers and the warmth of Renjun’s skin. Renjun shivered as he brushed it accidentally. Jeno dropped his hand onto the mattress weakly. 

“Stop feeling so guilty about it”, Jeno said after a long pause. 

“It’s not the same now.” 

“It doesn’t matter.” 

Renjun’s gaze was colder than it had been, vacant, not like the warmth it had possessed, comfort stolen, like he had realised how much of his guard he had let slip. He tried to build it up again. 

“Aren’t you still angry with me, Jeno?” 

“Do you want me to be?” 

“I don’t know.” 

“I’m not angry.” 

Renjun was so close that Jeno could almost feel his breath. 

_“Jeno”_ , Renjun’s voice cut through the air, meeting the silence and drawing Jeno in. _“I want you to touch me”_ , Renjun confessed, _“that’s what I want more than anything.”_

It was Renjun’s way of surrendering, through honesty. Jeno put his hand on Renjun’s face, it covered his cheek, thumb resting on his jaw. _Small steps._ He held it there, an innocent touch, skin on skin, and silence. Every second marked Renjun letting him in a little more. Jeno felt like he understood then, what Renjun had meant in the snow, he was afraid, because Jeno felt the same way too, everything was strung together by a thread that could so easily snap under too much pressure. 

Renjun’s eyes closed naturally, and Jeno wondered if it overwhelmed him, the intimacy, the intensity. Jeno studied his eyelids, soft without the make-up that had been smothering them. Innocence to match the tender touch, and he wanted to hold onto the expression tighter in case it disappeared. His hand stayed where it was. It was a taste of honey, of happiness, the touch. It was honey so sweet that it overwhelmed them both on the first taste, but it was only a taste, a tease. 

Renjun’s phone buzzed loudly from the bedside table. Jeno’s hand dropped from his face. 

_Life was not all good, and life was not all bad._ But the balance had tipped, vice was taking over and they had no control of it. It was terrifying, how fragile a moment in time could be. 

Renjun turned over, picking up the phone and chewing on his lip as he read the message. He looked like he was going to be sick. His breathing quickened a little, the rhythm was gone. 

“What is it?” Jeno received no answer, _“Renjun?”_

“It’s from my mom”, Renjun stated blankly, and held up the phone, showing it to Jeno. He read the words. 

_Going away for a while in case you were thinking of getting in touch – don’t worry x_

Jeno frowned. “What does that mean?” 

“I don’t know.” Renjun set the phone back on the bedside table, face down this time. 

“Aren’t you going to answer?” 

“In the morning.” Renjun climbed underneath the bed covers, and Jeno followed. He pressed his back against Jeno’s chest, like he wanted the closeness. “Let’s just sleep now.” 

Jeno could feel his own tiredness taking over. He reached for the lamp, flicking the switch. The room went dark, and his arms fell naturally to Renjun’s waist. Jeno was not sure at which point he had fallen asleep, because for a long, long time, he remained awake, Renjun did too, but they didn’t speak. He knew because he could hear his breathing, shaky and uneven. 

He counted Renjun’s breaths in his head, until eventually they became calm. 

\--

He took the bus back to his apartment in the morning. 

On the way, he had taken out his phone, scrolling through the entertainment sections in news sites. He typed in the name of Renjun’s ballet, clicking on the first search result. The screen switched, it was a review of the opening night. He read the headline. 

_-‘THE BOY WITH THE STARS IN HIS EYES DOES IT AGAIN.’-_

It was ironic, what he knew, what no one else knew, not even Renjun himself. He hid behind the façade because it was the easiest option, to avoid everything else, to focus on being starry eyed. The Renjun that had laid beside Jeno was not the Renjun that burned with ego and rage on a lit stage. 

The reviews were glowing. 

He closed the tab without reading anymore, slipping his phone back into his pocket and staring out of the window of the bus. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello!! It's elle, I have finally returned! I'm sorry this chapter took so long to get published but I will try to get back to weekly updates after this. I hope this chapter was interesting for people, I was a little nervous about posting it, but!! we are just about to end the second arc of the story, and at the end of the next chapter the final arc will be entered!! renjun pov next chapter!!  
> I'm so interested to hear your thoughts/ any comments - thank you for all the lovely ones on the last chapter!!  
> [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.qa/renjunfairydust)


	12. Chapter 12

It was a sort of sinking feeling, one that dragged him downwards, with a weight in his chest that wasn’t there. It pushed him lower, and he fell, further and further he felt himself plummet. 

It was like his head had been submerged, in a bath, and the world above the surface was muted by the muffling of the water. He knew he needed to come up for air soon, but there was something calm about where he was, something so still. 

_Breathe in._

Renjun reminded himself, controlling the inhalation, two words that had always calmed him. All thoughts were blocked by the darkness of his closed eyes. Sensations were physical, his mouth was dry, and the air smelled of fresh sweat, he’d almost forgotten where he was, the wooden flooring of the practise room pressed against his back to serve as a reminder. 

_Breathe out._

He let go, feeling the air leave his lungs as he did. Music played, he could still hear it, but it seemed far away, like it was ringing from above the water. 

How he felt now, felt like the night he had spent alone with Jeno in his apartment. His head was empty of everything else. It’d been peaceful, and all he’d had to think about was Jeno’s touch, nothing more, that was all he was thinking about now. It was light, and soft, and tender, and it was for him only. He could not remember another instance when he had been touched so gently. Insung had not touched him gently, maybe that was why he had not expected Jeno to either. It was safe, and he’d let himself slip, open up a part of him he’d almost forgotten existed. 

Renjun inhaled again, but it wasn’t the same, it wasn’t as steady as when he’d been blissed out on emptiness. It rattled through his chest, like the snap of an elastic band. He became overwhelmed, by Jeno, by Hyunsik, by his mother. 

_He was drowning._

It was the shadow that pulled him out of his thoughts, made the water push him up past the surface finally. He’d not realised how far he’d fallen until he opened his eyes, seeing Junhui above him, and he was unaware of how long had passed. It took his eyes a few seconds to adjust to the bright lights in the practise room, and he blinked up at Junhui’s hazy form twisting into focus. He attempted a smile, but he was sure it came out as a contorted grimace. 

“Are you alright down there?”, Junhui laughed over the sound of the music playing clearly now, voice light and airy as he peered down at Renjun sprawled out on the polished wood. 

Renjun sat up sharply, ripping the cold towel that he’d laid on his forehead off, and throwing it onto the floor at the edge of the room. The sun had dipped behind the buildings outside, the late afternoon shadowing the sky through the windows. He saw Junhui press his lips together, head tilted sideways as he waited for Renjun to speak. “I’m fine, yeah, sorry, I was just resting.” Standing, he brushed the creases out of his baggy t-shirt. “Did you say something before that?” 

“I said, should we try the coda one more time?”, Junhui answered, running a hand through his hair. It fell messily over his forehead, a little shorter than Renjun’s was. 

“Alright”, Renjun said, dazed still, and moved to the stereo, pressing the button that set the music back to the start of the track. They’d practised all morning like usual, and although the dances were more fluid since opening night two weeks ago, he knew they both wanted to maintain that ease. 

Renjun turned his head and caught himself in the mirror, a reflection staring back, stood limply in front of him, he always saw himself like this, absent eyes downcast, sunken at the edges and heavy above the thin bridge of his nose. He scowled, perhaps in an attempt to put some expression there, seeing the tiny dimple at the corner of his mouth appear and disappear. 

_He’d not seen Jeno a lot since opening night, a little, but not a lot._

He walked to the centre of the room beside Junhui and nodded as a signal to begin. The music felt like it was getting louder and louder, but it couldn’t have been. He glanced at the stereo, half inspecting it for any change. 

_They’d met up in the park near the hospital further into the city and sat on a bench near the shrubs at the entrance. It’d happened a few times, when Jeno was on his lunch break and Renjun could sneak out of the studios unnoticed. It was mundane, a sandwich packet balanced in Jeno’s lap, and Renjun with a coffee, both looking out across the park, but he liked it. He didn’t like it as much as the times when they were alone, but it was better than nothing._

“Ready?”, Junhui asked. 

“Ready”, Renjun replied. 

He heard Junhui count their steps, it matched the beat of the music. Renjun followed the lilt of the rhythm with his feet. 

“One, two, three.” Junhui spoke out loud. Renjun matched it in time, every move… _plié, fouetté, sauté_ – he repeated the words in his head, following them with actions. They became vice and virtue again, in harmony. Renjun held his hands out, and Junhui took them. “One, two three.” Junhui counted. 

_Renjun had been exhausted, shows every night, practise every morning. Time was not on their side, because when Jeno finished work, Renjun started his performance. Jeno had known that, both of them had, but it didn’t stop the longing. Being so close to Jeno and not being able to do anything about it was frustrating, aimless conversation and hesitant looks. It felt meaningless, like they had regressed together. It was out of their control. Sinking further. Being together was not good for them, being apart was not either._

Renjun zoned into the dance when Junhui’s hand touched his waist. It startled him, and he jerked sideways before slipping into the faster rhythm. Junhui only had time to wrinkle his nose, the crease between his eyebrows letting Renjun know that he had noticed the recoil. Then they were drawn back into the movements together. 

Renjun had decided very quickly after meeting him, that he liked Junhui a lot. It’d been in the same practise room, a few weeks ago when he’d followed Hyunsik in through the door, smiling when he saw Renjun. Junhui was new at the company, but Renjun had heard his name, Junhui was a rising star. At first Renjun had thought him shy, because he had spoken so formally in practises. It had taken him almost a week to admit that he was merely awed by Renjun. After that they’d had a lot to say to each other. He’d become someone that Renjun felt he could talk to, he reminded him a lot of Jaemin, the safety and the warmth of his smile. Renjun found comfort in that. 

_Dancing usually took Renjun away from his thoughts, as he liked it to, but it wasn’t now. His thoughts were everywhere, they were scattered all over the place in his brain, too many of them. He was bursting at the seams._

Renjun spun, and the melody of the music began to crescendo, and then it dulled, Junhui catching him in his arms, virtue’s calming touch stopping vice in his tracks. Junhui let go of his waist. 

“Are you sure you’re alright?”, Junhui asked, hesitant as he lifted his shirt, fanning himself gently with it. 

“I’m fine, really”, Renjun answered, walking to the refrigerator and taking two bottles of water from inside. He threw one to Junhui. 

“Thanks”, Junhui said, unscrewing the lid and taking a gulp of the water, then dipping down on the floor and beginning to pluck off his ballet shoes. Renjun saw Junhui wince as he peeled the first shoe off, holding his foot. 

“Are they new?”, Renjun asked, glancing at the blisters that had formed around Junhui’s heel, red and raw. 

“Yeah.” Junhui took off the second shoe, revealing similar patches of sore skin. “I’ve been trying to wear them in for days, but they’re agony.” He tossed the slipper into his bag along with the first, swapping them for his sneakers. 

Renjun flinched when he saw Junhui shudder as he put them on. “Will you be okay for the show tonight?” 

“I’d better be”, Junhui laughed, tightening the strings of his duffle bag and throwing it over his shoulder, “my mom’s coming to watch. She’s not seen it yet, she’s come all the way from home, been desperate to get here since it started but she couldn’t take time off work.” 

The sinking feeling hit Renjun’s chest violently, he couldn’t quite pinpoint where it was coming from. He smiled at Junhui. “Has she seen you perform before?” 

“Of course”, Junhui laughed again, “but not for a while, I think that’s why she wanted to come over here so much. Plus, it’s the biggest production I’ve been in yet.” 

Renjun numbed the sting, extinguished the flame, smiling again. He glanced out the window, it was already dark. “She must be really proud of you.” 

Junhui edged closer to the door of the practise room, leaning on the handle. “I hope so, I’m going to meet her now. She’s staying in one of the hotels near the theatre, we’re going out for dinner, she’s always fussing over me”, he chuckled fondly, “she doesn’t believe me when I tell her that I do eat properly.” 

“Well”, Renjun began, “enjoy it. I’ll see you later at the show.” 

“See you in a few hours.” 

He watched Junhui shut the door behind him, and then the swirling thoughts engulfed him again without warning. 

\--

Renjun stayed at the studio in the hours after Junhui left. 

He practised his solos over and over, no thinking, just dancing. He knew he was filling the time until he would have to leave for the theatre, but it was somewhat peaceful. 

The peace was only disturbed when he heard the door click loudly. The handle hit the wall a few seconds later, and Renjun tensed as he looked in the mirror, catching Hyunsik’s reflection. He stood with two cardboard cups, one in each hand. Renjun walked to the stereo, slamming the button on top of it, cutting the music off abruptly. 

“I got you a coffee.” Hyunsik placed one cup down on the table beside the door, and Renjun did not speak. “I thought you might need it, you’ve been cramped up in here all day.” 

“Thanks”, Renjun replied coldly, turning away. _He was still angry_. The day after the necklace had been broken, Hyunsik had found him in the studio, and apologised. Renjun had accepted it because it was easier, but he hadn’t forgotten. Since, he had only spoken to Hyunsik when he needed to, he avoided anything else. The coffee must have been an attempt at a peace offering. 

Renjun had the urge to check that the necklace was still there, even though he could feel the metal against his skin. He touched it, fingers gliding over the chain – he still felt guilty. Hyunsik focused there immediately, and Renjun dropped his hand. 

“You replaced it”, Hyunsik commented, there was no menace in his voice, merely a statement. 

“I did.” Renjun turned back to the stereo, with the intent of starting it. 

“Renjun.” 

“I need to practise.” 

“And I need to talk to you”, Hyunsik said calmly. 

Renjun knew already what it was about. They hadn’t addressed _it_ , he’d not let them be alone for long enough to. There was no escape now. He sunk further. 

“You know that you need to be on top form for this season, you know how important that is, don’t you?” 

“I know”, Renjun stated dryly. He’d heard it too many times, and right then, he felt the pressure to be perfect bubble in his throat. 

“It’s not the time to be thinking about your own gratification. You know how short a dancer’s career is. I _need_ you to be focused, I _need_ your attention here, and it isn’t. It isn’t just me that needs it, it’s all the other dancers too, it’s Junhui especially. You’re the lead, people come to see _you_ Renjun.” Hyunsik stopped, only to take in another breath. Renjun wouldn’t give Jeno up. “If you were one of our minor dancers, we’d probably let it slip, but getting involved with someone now? You can’t afford it.” 

Renjun didn’t know what to say, there was already too much to think about, _too many thoughts_. He fought the sinking feeling, battled with it, until he was breathing above the water again. Hyunsik’s words were calculated, Renjun made his that way too. He glared at the wedding ring on Hyunsik’s finger, gold and shiny. 

“When did you meet your wife?”, he asked, holding Hyunsik’s gaze. 

He could tell Hyunsik had sussed his game, but he answered steadily anyway. “In my early twenties.” 

“And how would you have felt if someone had said you couldn’t see her?” 

Hyunsik didn’t reply immediately, but Renjun saw him tapping his fingers against the cardboard of the coffee cup. “Look”, he relented, “I can’t control you. It was different for me, I wasn’t in the position that you are, I never reached the heights that you have, I didn’t have as much to lose. You have a privilege and still you seem to want to throw it away. There’s so many dancers that want to be you, can’t you see how much you have to lose here?” 

“It’ll be okay, _I’ll_ be okay”, Renjun grunted in response. 

Hyunsik exhaled slowly. “I’ve seen you grow”, his voice was a little softer, but still held harsh undertones, “and I’ve seen the talent that you’ve got. Being a ballet dancer is all about having control, you of all people should know that best.” He put his hand on the door, and Renjun knew the conversation was over. Part of him was glad of it, but part of him wished to fight back more. “Just think about it carefully”, Hyunsik added. 

It had been easier, somehow, to hide his relationship with Insung. They had been so careful, had known what was at stake, and even though their working relationship meant they had to spend so much time together, Renjun had been detached then. With Jeno nothing felt ordered, nothing felt like he had control over it, _at all_. 

Renjun walked to the table, picking up the coffee and taking a sip. It tasted bitter and lukewarm, but he drank it. The caffeine hit, giving him focus, at least temporarily. 

\--

Renjun’s apartment was eerily quiet that night when he came back after performing. It always worked the same way following the shows: get in the car with Junhui, get out of the car with Junhui at the apartment block, leave Junhui at his apartment on the second floor, walk to his apartment on the third floor. He’d not seen it since the morning, but everything was as he had left it. 

Tonight he had been reminded of something else, as he slumped down on the couch at one end of the room. It was probably because of what Junhui had said, but he knew it had been on his mind for days, that he would have been thinking of it anyway, alone in an empty apartment. 

He took out his phone and stared at the message, the one from his mother. There were never a lot of messages from her, so he didn’t understand, _why?_ He contemplated throwing the phone onto the table, slipping it into his pocket, or slamming it at the wall. Any of them would do so he didn’t have to think about the message on it. 

He’d told Jeno that he’d reply in the morning. That had been two weeks ago. It glared now, unanswered on the screen. 

_At the age of sixteen when he left home, he had said to his mother that he would come back. He had done briefly, after ballet school, but when he was there it felt like she wasn’t. It felt the same as when he had left, which was not a good thing. He still recalled the last time he had gone home, at the age of eighteen, home had not seemed a lot like home anymore. Jeno was not there then, there had been a moment where he thought that he might have been, but time had passed, he realised that when he had walked past the bakery and gazed into the window at night. Jeno had moved on too, left home and gone to college. Renjun knew back then he wouldn’t have had the heart to face him in those days even if he were inside the bakery._

He clutched the phone tighter and then loosened his grip, sighing. He had convinced himself that he didn’t care. It’d been so long, but he couldn’t help caring at least the smallest amount. 

That was why he had pressed the call button, why he held the phone up to his ear, listening to it ring. 

It was useless, the phone rang, and rang, and then it rang some more, but she did not pick it up at the other end of the line. – _it was late, she was probably asleep by now, or with someone, a stranger, or passed out on the couch._

He cut the call off immediately when it transferred to voicemail and shoved the phone into his pocket so that he didn’t have to look at it, so that he could pretend he didn’t care. 

\--

Another week of shows passed by the same way. His mother had not called him, and he had not tried to call her again. He’d crammed the worry into the tiny corners of his mind that still remained unscathed and filled the rest with thoughts of Jeno. Jeno, who he had not seen all week while he danced to packed audiences, every show sold out, fuelled by the faceless adoration of a city that loved him. 

The interview took place backstage after the show that evening. 

A camera was propped up beside the reporter, _recording them._ Renjun squinted at the bright lights, saw the red velvet of the stage curtain, the empty auditorium that had been filled with crowds, the glare of the reporter’s glasses and the neat pencil skirt pulled around her waist. Junhui was beside him, the glow of makeup still dusted on his nose, cheeks, and across his eyelids. Both of them were dressed in their show outfits, but the ribbons on Junhui’s shirt had been removed, and the bindings on his own wrists lay abandoned on the dressing table behind them. 

Renjun’s attention focused on the voices and he heard Junhui speak. He couldn’t remember what it had been in response to, but the reporter nodded with a slight tilt of her head as she smiled warmly. 

“Vice and Virtue”, the woman stated, her eyes flicking from Renjun to Junhui. “I understand that this production was written for the company.” 

Junhui spoke first. “We had the best writers in the industry”, he rushed, and Renjun could sense that he was a little nervous, “we’re lucky, it’s all new choreography, it was refreshing to have something different to work with. It meant as dancers we could have an involvement in developing the choreography into our own styles.” He smiled, and instantly Renjun thought that Junhui was a natural with the cameras, despite not knowing if he had ever done a television interview. 

The reporter nodded again, pushing the frame of her overly large glasses up to the bridge of her nose. “What was that like for the two of you?” 

It was Renjun’s turn to take over this time, he grinned automatically. “Well, it’s an area that I’d like to get into more, technique development. It was a challenge, but it interests me, it really felt like I put myself into the dancing for this show, like it was a piece of me.” _Like he was vice_. He saw Junhui nod earnestly in agreement out of the corner of his eye. 

“Working together”, the woman gestured between them with one hand, “that was okay for you both? I understand that you two hadn’t met prior to taking the roles, tell me, there were no _real_ fights between you, no conflicts or arguments?” 

Renjun let out a weak laugh, hearing Junhui do the same from beside him. He shook his head. “No, not really, even though we hadn’t met before we started training, it was easy to work together.” He looked at Junhui beside him, who nodded and smiled. 

The interview ended, and the camera crew packed up the equipment they’d brought with them, and the reporter left, and then finally Renjun and Junhui were free. He’d already taken the thick make up off, it was usually the first thing he did after a show. He liked how his skin felt without it. It was later than usual, and through the fogged windows, Renjun saw the darkness that had crept into the sky hours ago. 

He watched Junhui grab his sweater off one of the hooks above the bench in the centre of the dressing room, removing his costume shirt and throwing it on instead. Renjun did the same, fingers scrabbling at the thin vest he’d worn for the whole evening to remove it and pull his hoodie on. 

“Well, that was new”, Junhui commented, reaching for his jeans that were also hung up. “I’ve never done an interview like that before.” 

“Don’t stress about it”, Renjun laughed, doing up the buckle of his belt. “You get used to it eventually, and it gets easier, the interviews and reporters whenever there’s a new show, they always want to know about it”, he grinned, “to hear from the dancers. If you just pretend you know what you’re talking about and say what they want to hear, then it’s fine. It’s only being broadcast locally too.” 

It was quiet in the minutes that followed, but the quiet was comfortable. It was just the two of them, all the other dancers had left hours ago when the show had ended. Renjun unzipped the front of his bag, taking his phone out and looking at the single message that had appeared on his home screen. It was from Jeno, a text, a simple, _how was the show?_ , but it made him smile all the same. 

“What are you smiling at?”, Junhui asked with a grin as he leant across Renjun to grab his bag. 

“Nothing”, Renjun replied, but he knew he was still smiling, just a little. He shut the screen of his phone off, expression neutral again as he concealed it with a small pout. He turned indignantly, but with little menace and placed the phone back into his bag to hide it out of sight. 

“How do you do it?” 

Renjun raised his head sharply, and he could feel that his eyes had widened as he inspected the glint in Junhui’s eyes that his smile had put there. “Do what?” 

“Date.” 

It made Renjun afraid, how cautious he was forgetting to be with Jeno, how exposed he was in those seconds. It was Junhui, and the glint that Renjun had seen settled in his eyes was much like his own, a hidden fire, but not one that would burn him. 

“How do you date, during show times? I know we’re not really meant to.” Junhui continued. 

“Who said anything about dating?” Renjun replied dismissively. 

“It was obvious in your expression, Renjun. I can tell.” Junhui laughed again. 

“Don’t you?”, Renjun deflected. 

Junhui hesitated. “Not at the moment, not for a long time actually. I try not to get involved, you know, with other people, with all the stresses that it comes with. It isn’t my priority.” His voice lowered, as though he were flustered. “They’re casual hook ups I guess, no hard feelings. It’s easier than explaining why I can’t be around all the time. So”, he paused, “I just wanted to know _how_.” 

Renjun thought that Junhui made the perfect ballet dancer, more perfect than he had ever been, he knew what he was doing, he knew the balances, yet he still looked to Renjun for guidance. He didn’t understand, but he was drawn to his warmth. It was comforting, he trusted it enough, and that was rare. He nodded, “I haven’t seen him for a week and a half.” He laughed a little, but it muffled and stopped. “I don’t think it’s dating”, he said. “It’s sort of a, see each other when we can kind of thing.” He shook his head, flustered, sinking again. “I don’t know. It’s complicated, I’ve known him for a long time.” 

“He means a lot to you then?” Junhui had stopped stuffing his clothing into his bag, sitting on the bench underneath it and patting the space beside him. “You love him?” 

Renjun didn’t want to hear those words, because although he understood them better than when he was a child, he still did not believe that he could comprehend them fully. He wondered if he ever would. “I don’t want to be with anyone else”, he answered finally. He moved to the space beside Junhui, sitting on the bench. 

“How long have you known him?”, Junhui asked softly, and Renjun could tell that he didn’t want to overstep the mark or pry too far. 

Renjun was flustered again, he felt his cheeks growing hot with embarrassment, flushed crimson as his blood rose to dust each one with a bright tint. “I met him when I was ten.” 

_“Oh.”_

“We were friends”, Renjun continued, he did not see the point in stopping now that he had started. He found it ironic, how he spoke with such ease to Junhui, but seized up entirely with Jeno. Perhaps it was because he was less afraid of losing Junhui, that he was terrified of losing Jeno. “We were best friends, and then we weren’t, and now I don’t know what we are. We lost each other for five years, and now it feels like neither of us know what to do to make it alright again.” 

“You love him”, Junhui repeated after a moment of deliberation. 

“I don’t know.” Renjun didn’t want to sink any further, but still he fell, deeper and deeper. 

“What do you mean you don’t know?” 

“I don’t know”, Renjun repeated, throwing his hands into his lap and sighing. 

“Renjun, you make no sense.” 

Renjun laughed, staring into his lap. “I hear that a lot.” 

“Does he know”, Junhui paused, but his words were still carefully delivered, “about what it’s like, what we do?” 

“He knows a bit, but I don’t know what to say to him, I never do.” 

“Your feelings, Renjun, tell him how you _feel_. Talk to him if it means that much to you.” 

Renjun drew away sharply, rising from the bench and snatching his bag off the hook on the wall. “I’m not particularly good with words”, he said, “and I don’t even know why I’m telling you all of this anyway, I’m sorry.” He rushed the words. “Hyunsik’s already on my back about it.” 

He wanted to treat each step he took with Jeno like the steps of his ballet. There was a desire to make every action, every word, as careful as the movements of his dance, with precision. He thought that as the car drove both he and Junhui back to their apartment block. Every step he and Jeno took was messy and uncontrolled. He was hit by a wave, a pull to see Jeno, to tell him everything, like Junhui had urged. But that required thinking, and Renjun wasn’t sure how much capacity he had left for thoughts. He’d never liked them much in the first place, now he couldn’t get away from them. 

Jaemin had told him that he loved Jeno, and Junhui had too, but he couldn’t seem to find the words himself. 

It felt like he was sixteen again, all of this, and that night as he laid down to sleep, head full, he recalled a memory. He’d come so far he’d almost forgotten it, the night that he and Jaemin had watched the ballet in Seoul in his first weeks at the school. Back then, he had never thought he’d achieve all he had now, be one of those dancers and more. He’d come so far in many ways, yet he was still lost, he’d told Jeno that himself. 

He was still the boy sat in that theatre seat, he was a boy with a dream. He was sixteen, and he was in love, but he didn’t know it. 

\--

His mother did not answer the phone when he called her the next night, or the night after that, or the next one. 

He felt like he was going to explode, like he was going to snap. He had not stopped thinking about what Junhui had said – _talk to Jeno, talk to Jeno, talk to Jeno_. He wanted to talk to him, he needed to, he hoped the words would find him, the ones he had waited years to say. 

Renjun had snapped, later that week after another performance. He was in his apartment when he’d taken his phone and typed a message to Jeno, saying that he needed to see him, and then in Junhui’s words, that he needed to talk to him. He hesitated, like he should say more, but he guessed it could wait a little longer. It was eleven at night, but he’d got a response almost immediately. Jeno had texted back, that he’d come to the show the next night, he’d even bought a ticket. 

But none of that mattered in the end, it wasn’t enough. It didn’t stop Renjun from finding himself on the step outside Jeno’s apartment. He’d remembered his coat this time, and it was wrapped over the sweater he’d only just managed to throw on when he’d left his own apartment. The coat was buttoned up completely, tight around his chin. It was still cold, the snow had melted away over the weeks, showing concrete beneath. He knew that there was still more to come, that the ground would be covered in thick blankets of it soon enough. He glared at the buzzer outside the entrance to the lobby, no thoughts he reminded himself, and pushed haphazardly on the metal. It buzzed, and he could feel the words he wanted to say still stuck in his throat, itching and scratching at the inside of it wanting to escape. 

Jeno had let him in. The door clicked open. He walked up the stairs until he reached Jeno’s floor. He could see Jeno. He was standing outside the door to his apartment. His hair stuck up messily, and he wiped his face with his hands as Renjun came closer. He thought that Jeno looked beautiful. 

Renjun entered, he searched for the words he needed again, they were still a lump in his throat. Jeno waited for him to speak. He hated himself for not being able to, too much thinking, too many thoughts. 

_He’d never been good with facing choices, or problems, he’d always run away from them. If he were to make a choice, he would have to take control. He had never been in control of anything except the decision to dance, that was his. When faced by choices that felt unthinkable, felt as though they had no answer, the only choice that Renjun saw was to make no choice, to run away from it all, to stop thinking while he could._

It was Renjun that had kissed Jeno first. Jeno followed through, they had both been deprived of each other’s contact and at one single touch, he had fallen into the trap that he’d set himself. No words, just the feeling of Jeno’s hands on his waist. He tried to pull back, to say what he had come to say, and opened his mouth to speak but his lips were drawn back to Jeno’s, pulled into a longer, deeper kiss. 

“I thought you needed to talk”, Jeno breathed, a throaty groan emanating from him as Renjun’s kisses trailed down his neck. 

“I do”, Renjun whined, but swallowed the words, buried them deeper. The, _I love you’s, and the I need you’s_ , all of them, because they were too real, but so was Jeno, flushed and panting in front of him where they had barely made it through the door. The words left him as he lost himself in the kisses that he pressed onto Jeno’s skin, before connecting their lips again. 

He shut his eyes tight, overwhelmed again as he felt Jeno’s hand run under his sweater, brushing his stomach. He wanted to hold Jeno’s face between his hands and kiss him, but he was afraid to look him in the eyes. 

They got carried away. There wasn’t a lot that was gentle about it after that, and he knew then that the words would have to wait a little longer. His mind was empty. 

_“Oh god”_ , Jeno groaned as Renjun pressed his body closer to him, _“I’ve missed you so much.”_ He ran his fingers carelessly through Renjun’s hair. 

Renjun could tell that he too was losing control. He hated himself, but he loved the feeling, the thrill it gave him, clinging to each other as they backed further into the apartment, still connected until they hit the bed. Renjun gasped softly as he fell backwards, heaving Jeno on top of him and pulling him closer, wrapping his arms around his shoulders and kissing him again. 

Jeno pulled away, placing a hand on Renjun’s cheek, and then finally, Renjun was forced to look him in the eyes for the first time that evening. They sparkled in the dusky light that spilled in from the crack in the curtains beside the bed. Renjun thought then that the stars were shining in Jeno’s eyes too. He kept still, silently watching them flicker. 

“Renjun, the show, you’re not meant to-“ 

_“Jeno.”_ Renjun could not say much else. He’d abandoned reason at the apartment door. He pulled at Jeno’s shirt. 

It was a haze, his fingernails digging into Jeno’s bare shoulder blades, raking down to the small of his back, he was glazed, pliant, Jeno rendered speechless too, lost in the feeling of skin on skin. It was the only way he wanted to lose control, gasping Jeno’s name into the sheets. 

It was only afterwards, spent and exhausted, that reality came flooding in again, as he lay on Jeno’s naked chest. His head rested in the junction between Jeno’s arm and his shoulder, fingers tracing the skin of his torso lightly, too tired to do anything else. 

“You wanted to talk?”, Jeno had said. 

“Another time”, Renjun answered, not looking at Jeno as he continued to trace the soft skin of his chest with the tips of his fingers. They could wait a little longer, the words. 

He fell asleep like that. He hadn’t brought anything with him, because he had not intended to stay the night, but nothing ever seemed to go the way it was meant to between them. He knew he had a performance tomorrow, a performance that Jeno would be attending, perhaps they could talk after that. 

He left in the morning before Jeno was awake. It was not intentional, but he’d woken first, and he’d needed to leave, to gather his training clothes from his apartment and run to the practise room with a handful of excuses ready. He’d looked up at Jeno, his head still resting on the warmth of his shoulder, and leant up as far as he could, pressing a feather-light kiss to the underside of Jeno’s jaw. If he stayed with Jeno like this he was sure he could forget the world, but the world did not work like that. He didn’t want to disturb him, and he wouldn’t know what to say to him right now. 

He picked his creased clothing up from the floor and dressed silently instead. 

\--

The stage curtain was closed. 

_Two minutes._

There were two minutes left until it would lift open, and Renjun would see the bright lights. Adrenaline was racing through him, knowing that Jeno was in the audience, he wanted to run to him, but he didn’t know where he would be sitting. 

_One minute._

The crew still fumbled with one of the blocks on the stage, scurrying off once it was left in place. Junhui was beside him, he gave Renjun a smile, Renjun smiled back, his view drawn behind him. Hyunsik leant against the wall with his arms folded. Their eyes met, devoid of expression, until Hyunsik squinted and Renjun looked away sharply, stretching one last time as he pointed his foot in front of him repeatedly. 

The curtain rose, spotlight glaring, and he sprung into the first act, it was automatic now, he knew every twist and every turn of his movements. He saw the pale ribbons on Junhui’s shirt whirl past him, and he reacted accordingly, an arm curled above his head. Jeno was watching. 

Jeno was watching, but Renjun had failed to say what he needed to say. 

He ran off the stage at the end of his solo. Junhui entered from the left, lifting one of the younger ballerinas in the air, his ribbons trailing gracefully as they took centre stage. Renjun tried to peer into the audience from the wings of the stage but the glare of the lights prevented him seeing further than the front row. He waited for his cue. 

The music took a stronger tone and he stepped forward, into the bright light. The spotlight was lit for him. The audience applauded as he formed a perfect arabesque, stretching backwards elegantly. He leapt and spun, landing on both feet and steadying himself. His head was usually empty as he danced, focused solely on the movements, but not anymore. It was as though all of the thoughts he had supressed last night had come crashing in again, with an unbelievable force and weight that crushed him. His footing was uneasy. 

Jeno was watching, and Hyunsik was watching, everyone was. Everyone except his mother. She’d _gone away_. It was the final pull under the water that dragged him down. He ran into his last leap, his finale. 

He felt the jolt before the pain came. 

It was just a slip, a moment that could have gone so differently, and then it was pain, blinding pain that stemmed from his ankle to his whole body as he fell. He crashed against the stage, feeling the impact through the entire side of his body, it knocked the air from his lungs, and he couldn’t move. 

He was under the water, he couldn’t hear the music anymore or the audience, just a dull ringing in his ears as he laid lifelessly on the floor. The water was vicious, it didn’t calm him, it filled his lungs so he couldn’t cry out. He wanted to writhe and flail, and kick his feet, but he knew that if he did all he would feel was the shattering pain. So, he stayed still, palms pressed to the floor. He couldn’t see Jeno, he couldn’t see anything except the spotlight. 

Finally he inhaled again as he saw the curtain drop in front of him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> .... h-hello  
> I am: sorry. I will make promises that it gets better for both of them soon as we enter the last story arc of this fic from the next chapter!  
> comments and kudos are really appreciated, I'd love to hear thoughts!! Also, thank you so much, stargazers reached 300 kudos last chapter, I can't believe how far it has come!!  
> [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.qa/renjunfairydust)


	13. Chapter 13

Jeno clambered through the crowds in the theatre lobby. 

They stretched as far as he could see, a cacophony of blaring conversation as he hurried to the exit, stunned by the cold air outside that struck his skin making him stop abruptly. 

Accompanied by dimmed lamp lights, the city street was brought to life by the clusters of people spilled out from inside the theatre. Jeno looked up slowly, seeing crowds huddled near the stage door, and breaking into a run fuelled by his incentive to join them. Meeting the edge of the cluster, he was trapped in the hordes of spectators and cameras with long lenses pointed at the closed stage door. The winter air was harsh and bitter, but Jeno felt heat from bodies pressed up against him uncomfortably. He didn’t know how long had passed since he’d torn himself from the seat in the auditorium, and now he’d never felt so claustrophobic, lost among the herd of people. 

They lurched, and Jeno was forced to move with them, thrown sideways suddenly by the weight. Panic rose in his chest with each minute that passed, he bottled it as he watched the closed door. The hum of voices became louder gradually, the crowd growing restless. Jeno could only stare at the door, willing it to open. He pushed further in, passing through another row. 

_“I’m sorry, excuse me”_ , Jeno murmured, passing a woman distracted in conversation. She stopped, glaring at Jeno with her nose upturned, before disregarding him and chattering noisily. _“I’m sorry”_ , he repeated to no one in particular, throat dry and voice hoarse. He was almost at the cusp of the front row, so deep into the crowd that as he looked back he couldn’t see his route in any longer. 

He stopped entirely when he heard the stage door crash against the hard brick wall. 

Cameras began to flash rapidly, and the murmurs in the crowd switched to loud calls. Jeno squinted, trying desperately to focus on the doorway, but the person in the row in front craned their neck higher to catch a glimpse of the dancers. The camera shutters were all that Jeno could hear, and see, flashes flickering in the direction of the entrance. He stood on his tiptoes, raising himself up and _finally_ , he saw him. 

_Renjun_. Jeno noticed him through the bright flashes of the cameras firing shots that cut the darkness. Junhui was beside him, one arm draped around his shoulder, hoisting him forward as they braced for the crowd. There was another man beside Renjun that Jeno didn’t recognise, dressed in a suit matched with a dark knee-length coat. His arm was around Renjun’s other shoulder, hefting him forward. Renjun limped on one foot, head lowered and eyes downcast beneath the hair shadowing his face. An overly large black hoodie had been thrown around his shoulders, seeming to swallow him completely. Neither he nor Junhui were smiling their usual polished smiles for the cameras. 

Renjun looked up, flinching at the glare from the flashes, and smiled weakly before his head slumped down. A voice called out, and this time it was only Junhui’s head that rose, Renjun’s still lolling forward on his shoulder. Junhui’s mouth moved, forming a reply with a smile and a small nod of his head, but he was too far away to hear it. Then they were moving forward towards a car with dark windows. 

_Jeno saw it in his head vividly: Renjun dropping to the hard stage floor, a single thud. The air was knocked out of him, Jeno felt his breath stolen too, all of it. It could almost have been part of the show, but it wasn’t, the curtain dropped, leaving silence. Then there was shock, and the sickness in Jeno’s stomach that made him dizzy._

Jeno’s heart sank to the floor for the first time that evening, beating hard and fast against his ribcage as he was jostled by people trying to catch sight of the injured dancer. _Fight or flight_ , but he could do neither, stuck in the unmoving crowd. Renjun appeared and disappeared in the gaps between heads, and when Jeno saw him again, he’d nearly reached the car. He winced when he was pushed forward and Jeno felt the instinct to call out to him, to let him know that he was there. He stopped himself, voice dying in his throat as Junhui tugged on the car door and helped Renjun climb inside, following afterwards. 

Then the car was gone, and what once was a crowd full of noise, seemed as stunned as Jeno was, silent as the sound of the camera shutters ground to a halt. His heart dropped again, the air slowly filled with low muttering. The spectacle was over, and the murmurs erupted into loud conversation, people dispersing from around the theatre. Jeno’s shoulders were nudged as he was knocked by them, left to stare at the empty space. Guilt twisted in his stomach. 

_Renjun had been in Jeno’s apartment the night before, he’d not seen him since they had been so lost in each other that for a few hours they had forgotten what it was to be apart. Renjun with the sheets wrapped over him, hands in Jeno’s hair, then fingers stroking his chest lightly. Renjun kissed him and he cared, but it was too fragile to be anywhere close to perfect. He only half remembered stirring that morning, warm lips near his mouth, below his jaw. Renjun had left._

The street outside the theatre was quiet, robbed of the life it had held. Jeno was _meant_ to meet Renjun here after the show, _meant_ to go back to his apartment together. 

Walking slowly to the theatre wall, Jeno leant his back against it, slipping down the rough brick. His whole body shook, all the way to his hands, uneasy as he ripped his phone out of the side pocket of his jeans, dialling Renjun’s number. He inhaled, willing himself to stay calm. Carefully, he pressed _call_ and held the phone to his ear. 

It rang to voicemail, and Jeno cut it off, resting his head on the wall and closing his eyes as if it would make him forget. He ran a hand through his hair hurriedly. Minutes passed, and he was waiting. His hands were still shaking, more vigorously, but he still gripped the phone. The scene was almost calm, _it gave him a chance to breathe_ , but the tranquillity was intercepted – his anxiety growing because the phone did not ring. With each minute that dragged, the cold became less bearable. It made Jeno crave the warmth of his apartment even more, not the freezing, empty sidewalk next to the theatre. He waited for a direction to move in, a decision to make, or the tiny chance that Renjun might appear. 

The phone did not ring for another hour, but when it did, Jeno answered it immediately. 

_“Jeno?”_ Renjun sounded distant. 

“Renjun, _oh god_ , are you okay, where are you?”, Jeno rushed, pushing off the wall and pacing a few steps along the uneven paving. 

_“I’m in hospital.”_ Renjun’s voice was devoid of what made it belong to him, and there was a tremor to it. _“They think my ankle’s broken. I don’t know… they don’t know"_ , he murmured, but Jeno could sense his panic. _“They’re doing x-rays soon, I don’t have long.”_

____

____

“I saw you come out of the theatre”, Jeno said. 

_“I’m sorry I couldn’t meet you.”_

Jeno could only manage a weak laugh in return, his calm falling away, tumbling out of sight so he could no longer grasp onto it. “Which hospital are you at?” Renjun stayed quiet. “Renjun, which hospital?”, he repeated loudly. 

_“Yours”_ , Renjun whispered reluctantly. There were voices muffled in the background. 

Jeno sighed, rubbing his face with his hand. “I’ll come there now”, he said, hearing Renjun’s breathing stutter. 

_“Everyone’s still here.”_ It sounded as though Renjun had shifted slightly because he winced at the end of his sentence. _“I have to stay overnight, I’ll be fine for one night.”_

Jeno wanted to say more, but the tightening feeling in his chest that grew stronger prevented him from doing so. He settled for, “I’ll come there first thing in the morning.” 

Renjun paused, and for a moment all Jeno heard down the line was his shallow breathing. _“Alright”_ , he said finally, but his voice wavered and croaked. _“Thank you”_ , he added, and his breath hitched. _“I’ve got to go, Jeno.”_ Renjun hesitated before adding, _“I’m sorry.”_

Jeno was unsure exactly what Renjun was apologising for, but he hadn’t had time to ask, the phone line went dead a few seconds later. He was left speechless, but he knew he had to move, to catch the bus to his apartment. 

The journey dragged, his head pressed onto the glass of the bus window, shoulder leant on the edge of the seat, watching the city like he had done when he’d been sat with Renjun beside him, a hand in his. Now his hands were cold from the air outside, stuffed into the pockets of his coat to try and warm them. 

He couldn’t sleep that night. Every time he laid his head on top of his pillows and closed his eyes, the events of the evening replayed. Renjun on the stage, by himself, falling, the dull thud on impact, he hated it. His eyes shot open again. He tried turning onto his side, staring at the plaster on the wall, but it didn’t help the images to leave his mind. He ran his hand over the empty sheet where Renjun might have been that night, where he should have been, and everything should have been fine. He was struck by the emptiness. 

He got up from the bed in the end, walking to the couch and sinking into it. Continuing to stare at the wall, eventually his eyes grew tired, lids heavy as they fluttered closed, and he did not have the will to fight sleep any longer. 

Jeno fell into a slumber with his head resting on his shoulder, fitful and uneasy. 

\--

The hospital was quiet. It was rare for Jeno to be in as early as he was that morning, there was still an hour until his shift began. The sign for the fractures ward glowed against bare white walls above the corridor entrance. 

He’d hurried since he’d left his apartment, since he’d woken sprawled on the couch, his arm aching from being tucked under his head. But still, _he’d had to hurry_ , slinging his uniform on and doing up each button with little care, as restless as when he’d fallen asleep the night before. The subway had been packed, hot, humid and cramped with commuters. Nerves prickled his insides, on edge as the train had stopped at the hospital. 

Turning a corner, he tapped his identification card against the reader on the wall and glass doors slid open. He’d worked in the ward before, patients with broken bones, this part of the hospital was nothing new to him, but nervous energy surged down his spine. The air smelled familiar here, disinfectant wafting past him with every step he took towards the reception area. He scrunched his nose, the odour a little overpowering. 

The nurse at the desk looked up as Jeno approached the counter, distracted from his riffling through a filing cabinet beside him. 

Jeno smiled. “I’m looking for Mr Huang, uh…Huang Renjun”, he stuttered, the words foreign on his tongue. _Mr Huang_ – he would have laughed at any other time, perhaps if Renjun were beside him. 

The nurse squinted, glancing at the lanyard around Jeno’s neck. “Room thirty four.” He pointed at a corridor to his left, then returned to focus on the open filing cabinet. 

“Thank you”, Jeno gushed hastily. 

The door to room thirty four was identical to every other door, painted white and pulled shut. Jeno did not stop to calm himself before pushing the handle and jostling it until the door opened. The first thing he noticed was the constant hum of the monitor beside the hospital bed. Then, the relief that he felt when he saw Renjun wasn’t slow, or steady, rushing through him. Renjun’s chest rose and fell unwaveringly, and his ankle was propped up in a splint attached to a stirrup at the top of the bed. Both his feet were bare, each already bruised and battered from hours spent dancing, but now fresh bruises bloomed around one swollen ankle. A bright blue curtain hung on a metal rail, pulled halfway around the bed. Jeno’s stomach twisted as he shut the door gently, stepping nearer to the bed. He guessed Renjun had been awake when he rolled over, Jeno watching his face come into view, eyes half open and bewildered. The realisation hit him as he stared at the splint Renjun’s leg rested in. 

“Renjun,” Jeno took another step closer to the bed. 

There wasn’t time for anything more. The door clicked suddenly with force. Jeno turned sharply. 

Stood firmly at the door, an elbow propping it open, was the other man from outside the theatre. The suit had been replaced by jeans and a shirt, casual, and his eyelids were heavy, the bags underneath them evident as he closed the door behind. He held a coffee cup that Jeno recognised from the canteen downstairs. As he approached the bed his face was stern, eyes trailing from Renjun to Jeno. 

“We’ve been waiting since last night”, the man said sharply, “I’m his manager”, he nodded at Renjun “are you the doctor?”, he asked, and Jeno felt his heart beat faster. 

“Oh, I’m not…” Jeno pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose in a way that only he would recognise as a by-product of his own nerves, then clasped his hands behind his back, gripping them together tightly. He was already aware that he was not meant to be where he was. “I’m Lee Jeno.” He held a hand out towards the man, who shook it firmly. “I’m one of the physios here at the hospital.” It was at that moment that he felt the brush of a warm finger against the back of his. It startled him. Renjun ran the finger slowly down his, the touch held a sort of reassurance, it was more than a touch, it was a thank you, and an _I’m okay_ , and a plea for silence. Jeno accepted the offer, letting Renjun link their fingers. 

“It’s a broken bone”, Renjun’s manager continued sternly, gesturing to Renjun’s bound ankle. Jeno’s stomach lurched. “He’s a dancer, we need to know how bad the break is, and when he’ll be discharged. Have you been assigned to him?” 

Jeno’s finger was still linked with Renjun’s. “We’re not usually assigned to patients until the first consultation once the break has started to heal”, Jeno spoke uneasily, afraid that somehow their interlocked fingers would be seen. “I came to assess the damage”, it wasn’t the exact truth, but it wasn’t a lie either. “He’ll need a rehabilitation programme.” 

Renjun’s manager looked sceptically at Jeno, a crease between his brows. “You’re rather young, do you have much experience with this kind of thing?” 

“I work with a lot of patients with sports injuries”, Jeno replied as Renjun’s grip around his finger loosened, sliding away into the sheets as if to hide there. He thought of the numerous soccer players and athletes he’d seen in the short time since he’d started at the hospital. “I’ve never worked with a dancer, but it would be very similar treatment.” 

“He needs to be back on stage as soon as possible”, the man cut in. “The company’s paying for the best treatment here.” 

“Well”, Jeno began, disguising his discomfort with a forced laugh. “I understand, but you can’t rush a broken bone, they need time to heal.” 

The man hummed as the conversation between them dried up. He grabbed his phone off the table. “I’ll report back now”, he said, fiddling with the phone and addressing both of them, and then focusing his attention on Jeno, smiling. “Thank you, I’ll leave you to finish up here.” He glanced at Renjun. “I’ll be out in the corridor if you need me.” 

“Alright”, Jeno heard Renjun’s voice from behind him. It was the first time he’d spoken since his manager had entered the room. 

Jeno felt only relief when the man left, hearing again the steady sound of the monitors beeping. He waited, then turned. Renjun was peering up at him with wide eyes, one hand tangled in the sheet it had fallen into when Jeno’s finger had been released. 

“Renjun”, Jeno repeated as he had done earlier, “I didn’t know your _manager_ was going to be here.” 

“I didn’t know he was going to stay here all night. That’s just Hyunsik”, Renjun replied, “he’s a bit of asshole.” 

“I guessed that much”, Jeno laughed back weakly. Already he’d lost whatever it was that had been holding him together when Renjun’s manager had been standing in the room. He drew in air quickly through his teeth. _“A broken ankle.”_

Renjun looked at the bedsheets. The sun shone on his face through the window, making a matching shadow on the pillows behind him and causing the silver chain around his neck to sparkle. He stayed silent. 

“What happened?”, Jeno asked. 

“I fucked up in front of everyone and threw my career away”, Renjun stated coldly, still staring at the thin hospital sheets. 

Jeno shook his head. “No. I meant, _what happened?_ You’ve never made a mistake like that.” 

Renjun did not reply, but Jeno knew it was not the time to push him for an answer. He moved to the bed, perching on the space at the edge that Renjun’s body did not fill. “Are you in pain, did they give you something to ease it?” 

“Painkillers.” Renjun shifted, grimacing and scrunching up his face. He made a grab for the leg shielded by the splint but couldn’t reach it. “I think they might have worn off now.” 

“What have they told you about it so far?”, Jeno asked. 

“That it’s stable”, Renjun answered, falling onto the mattress after giving up his attempt to adjust the splint. “That they don’t need to operate, because it was a clean break, not a shatter.” Jeno wanted to take Renjun’s hand in his, not just the slip of a finger, but he didn’t dare to move as he listened anxiously. “No weight on it at all for six weeks”, Renjun continued, “and therapy on it after that. That’s all I know”, he finished dejectedly, resting his head on the starched pillow and peering up at Jeno as he nestled into it. 

He smiled up at Jeno expectantly, as if he held all the answers. Jeno pressed his lips together. “Renjun, you know how serious this is for a dancer, don’t you?” 

Renjun nodded, his smile dropping. Jeno felt the guilt then. The night before had dropped out of his mind when he’d seen Renjun laying in the bed, but the silence now reminded him of it. 

“I want you.” 

Jeno looked down sharply at Renjun. “What?” 

“I want you to be my physiotherapist”, Renjun finished quietly. 

“I doubt I’ll be assigned, not to a case like this”, Jeno replied honestly, and this time he wrapped his hand around Renjun’s, palm pressed against his limp fingers in the sheets. Renjun nodded and lowered his head, then glanced behind Jeno at the door. 

“He’ll be back in a minute”, Renjun said blankly and Jeno understood, sliding his hand away from Renjun’s. “I think he’ll leave once I’ve been seen by the doctor.” 

Jeno sighed. “My shift starts soon anyway.” He brushed his hair out of his eyes and straightened his creased shirt. “I’ll come back later.” 

\--

When Jeno returned, Renjun was lying on his bed staring up at the ceiling. He’d spent the day cramped up in the physio ward, aching to see Renjun and listening to the other physios’ gossip about the famous ballet dancer. He’d stayed silent and listened, nobody knew. It stung, feeling helpless and silenced, but at the end of his shift he’d rushed down the hospital corridors to the room on the fractures ward. 

The light in the room had faded as dusk fell. Renjun lay on top of the blankets, his messy hair spread over the pillows under his head, ankle still suspended in the same splint. There was a wheelchair at the end of the bed, a set of polished crutches propped up next to it. A duffle bag was slung on the floor, open, with clothes spilling out of it. Renjun’s hospital gown was gone, replaced by his own t-shirt and a pair of shorts. He stirred, head turning and eyes catching Jeno leaning in the doorway. 

“Hey”, Jeno said softly, shutting the door behind him and walking over to the bed. 

Renjun smiled forlornly. “Hey”, he replied, wriggling in an attempt to sit up and managing to lean his back against the hard metal bed frame. 

“Hyunsik?”, Jeno asked. 

“Gone”, Renjun confirmed. 

“How are you feeling?” 

“Like shit”, Renjun groaned. 

“It’s going to take time.” 

“That’s what everyone keeps telling me.” 

Jeno glanced at the bag of clothes again, trying to lighten the conversation. “You’ve got your stuff?” 

“Junhui brought it in for me after you left this morning.” Renjun went silent, looking at the clock on the table beside the bed, digits lit up in bold red. His smile fell away, as though he had forgotten something and been reminded unexpectedly. “The show’s going to start soon. Junhui said they’ve brought in the understudy. Apparently it’s not the same, and Hyunsik’s in a shitty mood”, he laughed dryly but his face was blank. Renjun tore his gaze away from the clock and glared at the wall. “Six to eight weeks to heal”, he stated. “There’s only seven weeks left of the show…no more vice.” 

“Renjun, I’m sorry.” Jeno felt it, the deep punch to his gut. 

“It’s alright”, Renjun spoke more softly, “it’s just frustrating.” 

“Have they said anything else to you?” 

“They didn’t know how bad the break was this morning, that’s why they haven’t put the cast on it yet.” 

“They gave you those already?” Jeno nodded to the crutches at the end of the bed. 

“I can’t use them until they put the cast on, but I should be discharged tomorrow.” He pointed at the wheelchair beside the crutches. “That’s only temporary until I get the cast, it’ll be better tomorrow, but right now, I can’t even go to the bathroom without using it to get there”, he sighed. “I don’t know how long it’ll be until I can dance, no one’s told me yet”, his voice became a little shakier this time. “I’ve got to come back to the hospital for consultations, it depends on how well it heals.” He smiled at Jeno. “It’ll be okay, won’t it?” 

Jeno hated the feeling of not being in control, and he’d felt it all too often lately. He didn’t know how to make it okay, or whether it would be. For a passing second, he let himself be vulnerable, shoulders slumping. 

He jolted when a soft hand moved on top of his, head shooting up, so he met Renjun’s eyes. He was frowning, his brows knitted together as he peered at Jeno with lips slightly parted before speaking. 

“Jeno, are you alright?”, Renjun asked quietly. 

Jeno hesitated, seeing the concern in Renjun’s eyes. He pushed his worries away, they could wait, he’d think about them tomorrow. Putting his hand on top of Renjun’s briefly, he chuckled. “I’m fine. It’s late, you should get some sleep soon.” 

“I will”, Renjun smiled back, then yawned. 

Jeno stayed beside him until the darkness from outside had taken over the whole room, until Renjun could hardly keep his eyes open anymore and neither could he. 

Then quietly, he left the room. 

\--

Tomorrow came quickly, but he had expected it to, and soon he was back at the hospital. 

What he had not expected from tomorrow was the call to Mr Moon’s office. Regardless, he had found himself standing outside the large glass entrance after his lunch break. Through the window, he saw his boss focused on the computer screen in front of him, typing at the large keyboard. Jeno took one steady breath in, anxious, and knocked on the door, entering slowly. 

Mr Moon stopped typing, raising his head. “Ah, Jeno, come in and sit down.” 

The tone made Jeno feel uneasy, it was firm, firmer than usual. He walked to the chair that faced Mr Moon and sat down awkwardly. He knew that his boss was already monitoring his reports, but something about all of this felt different. 

“Now”, Mr Moon began sternly, pushing some papers out of the way so he could rest his hands on the desk. “We have a bit of a problem on our hands. I had one of the senior doctors in here earlier this morning, with a request”, he paused, “we currently have a famous dancer as a patient here, and I know you know that”, he said harshly, “despite the fact that no physios were requested to be present.” 

Jeno felt his heart race at the mention of Renjun, and at the thought of being caught, he knew he could lose his job for it. He lowered his head sincerely. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have been there.” 

“No, you shouldn’t have been”, Mr Moon replied. “This is a private hospital we run, you shouldn’t just be wandering into patients’ rooms. Why did you do it, Jeno? You know better than that. It’s unprofessional to abuse your position like that with a patient that you haven’t been assigned to.” 

Jeno thought fast, trying his best to salvage his dignity. He didn’t know what say, because he knew that the truth would be the easiest, but the truth was off limits. “I was at the show”, he admitted, it wasn’t a lie. He watched Mr Moon frown deeply. “I was passing by, and I wanted to see if he was okay.” 

Mr Moon leant back in his chair and sighed audibly, raising a hand to his forehead and closing his eyes briefly. “So, _you’re telling me_ ”, he scoffed, “that you’re a fan?” He laughed again, Jeno not given a chance to speak. “I didn’t know you liked ballet.” Jeno tried to answer but Mr Moon cut in. “You’ve not been here long Jeno, and I’ve already had reason to speak to you about your performance, you should have asked me first.” Jeno lowered his head again, mouth dry and palms sweaty. “However”, Mr Moon’s tone lightened slightly, and slowly Jeno raised his head. “Whatever it is that you said, you seem to have made a good impression. I also know that you’re one of our best physiotherapists here, I’ve had a lot of positive feedback from your patients, you seem to have a way with them that makes them feel at ease during treatments. I see a lot of potential in you. I don’t think the team would be the same without you on it, and well, they want you, Mr Huang and his manager.” 

Jeno looked up sharply. “Me?”, he asked. He hadn’t thought of what Renjun had said to him the day before until now. 

Mr Moon nodded. “Maybe you charmed Mr Huang too when you spoke to him. I did say you have a way with the patients. They were insistent. I haven’t assigned you yet because I wanted to talk to you about it first. I know that it’s extremely early to be assigning a physio, but this isn’t just a straight forward case of walking again, assessments need to begin as soon as possible. It would involve spending a lot of time together on a weekly basis, and then supervision through his recovery away from the hospital.” 

“Away?” 

“Sometimes, yes, we need to do everything that we can for him”, Mr Moon said, sighing. “One day Lee Jeno, one day I’m going to lose my job because of you”, he let out a fond laugh, “but for now, I was wondering, if you would be willing to take on the role that I’m proposing?” 

Jeno considered saying no, it crossed his mind as instinct, perhaps the pressure was too overwhelming, perhaps all of this had always been far too overwhelming, and this was the final push to break him completely. Instinct told him not to take the case. He thought back to when he’d been sat in the theatre seat, the images that haunted him, the thoughts of Renjun crumpled on the floor. The guilt that shouldn’t have been there returned, washed over him like a fierce wave. 

“Okay”, was all he could manage quietly. 

Mr Moon grabbed a page from the pile of papers on the side of the desk, swiping a pen from the pot next to his computer and scribbling rapidly. “I’m trusting you with this. Please don’t let me down again. If you need any help along the way, don’t hesitate to ask me.” Jeno watched him drag the pen further down the page and continue writing. “He’ll be in a cast for a number of weeks, so you won’t be required full time then, but you’ll need to familiarise yourself with his usual level of fitness and ability by talking to him in consultations. Find out about his training routines, what strength he had before the injury, so you know where to benchmark the therapy. This isn’t just a textbook case.” 

Jeno lowered his head again. “I understand”, he answered, the pressure prodding at his insides. 

“When you’ve worked out the rehabilitation programme, I want you to run it past me first”, Mr Moon said. “This boy’s future is in our hands.” 

Jeno frowned, trying not to show the panic rising. “What do you mean?” 

“If he’s going to recover fully, then it will be down to us…more specifically, it’ll be down to _you_.” 

_Pressure_ \- it was tight in Jeno’s chest as he exhaled unevenly. He was tangled at the heart of everything. He would never refuse because he wouldn’t want anyone else to do it. Jeno faced the question he had been avoiding, bile rising in his throat. “Is he going to dance again?” 

Only the sound of shuffling papers could be heard as his boss snatched the stack off his desk and filed them carefully into a cabinet beside it, stare hardening, but not in a cruel way, as he looked at Jeno. He sighed. “We don’t know honestly, so we haven’t told him either way yet. We need to see how bad the damage is to the ankle, and how well he responds to treatment, then we’ll know, but there’s always the chance that he won’t. His ankle will heal fine, he’ll be walking in a matter of months, but dancing”, he hesitated, “I really don’t know.” 

Jeno’s fears were confirmed then, cemented in his mind. He knew that dancing was Renjun’s life. Part of him was numb, but part of him felt the pressure and he did not know how to face it. 

The realisation didn’t hit Jeno right away, that Renjun may never dance again, it was more gradual as he left the office with Renjun newly assigned as his patient. 

Renjun may never dance again, and no one had told him that. 

\--

The cast on Renjun’s foot was applied thickly to hold his ankle in place, the pair of crutches beside him against the bed now. He was sat on the edge, both feet pressed gently onto the floor, the right one with the cast on raised up slightly more than the other one was. He reached into one of the drawers in the chest beside the bed, taking out a handful of clothes and stuffing them into the duffle bag in his lap, closing it shut. 

Jeno was sat in the chair next to the bed, a place he’d grown familiar with over the last two nights since Renjun had been in hospital. He hadn’t seen Renjun all day until now, there had not been a chance. 

It was slightly awkward, because Jeno was holding back. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to speak, but he’d become so wrapped up in his own thoughts that it seemed he had merely forgotten to, but a lot of it was avoidance, a point where there was too much to think about. His thoughts were a jumble. 

“I’m your physiotherapist.” He was sure that it came out just above a whisper because he still did not know how to feel. Renjun stopped, laying the duffle bag on the bed next to him, stretching slightly and then recoiling into himself. “Thank you”, he spoke quietly. 

“Why?” 

Renjun looked sheepishly up at him. “I said I wanted you, didn’t I?” 

“You did.” Jeno scoffed, “but I wasn’t expecting you to actually _request_ it.” 

Renjun hesitated, “I told Hyunsik that I didn’t want anyone else” 

Jeno was fighting the battle that had been a constant since he found out, the fear that Renjun was too damaged for repair. He squashed the concern into the corners of his mind where he wanted it to be suppressed. There was still a part of him that was relieved that he could justifiably be close to Renjun. He smiled, “I suppose it’s my job,” and avoided the issue. Renjun still didn’t know the truth. 

Renjun smiled at him with unspoken gratitude. He watched him reach for the duffle bag, throwing it onto the floor next to the bed. “I’m being discharged in a few hours, Hyunsik’s picking me up”, he sighed. “I’ve been practising with these,” Renjun took the crutches and slid his hands through the plastic rings, heaving his weight off the bed, “so far it’s not a complete success.” He steadied himself carefully, his injured ankle raised firmly off the floor, taking a shaky step forward. The crutches clattered loudly. Jeno rose from his seat instinctively, standing beside Renjun. “I’m fine”, Renjun insisted sharply. 

“I’ll show you how”, Jeno said, waiting for Renjun to protest, but he didn’t, staring at Jeno dolefully, poised with his weight thrown onto the crutches. 

“Heel of the bad foot first, but don’t put weight on it.” He imitated the action, and Renjun copied, resting the cast on the floor as he followed with the crutches, getting used to the movement. “Then push with your arms.” 

Renjun copied him again, until his walking came more easily. He leant a hand against the wall and glanced at Jeno, who nodded encouragingly. Continuing the movements repeatedly, Renjun practised each step as Jeno watched. It had always been part of his job, but not something he expected he would ever have to help Renjun with. 

Renjun fell back down on the bed, leaning the crutches against the frame. 

_Renjun may never dance again. No one had told him._

“The car will be here soon”, Renjun stated. 

“Hyunsik?” 

“Yeah.” 

“What are you going to do?”, Jeno asked. 

“Go back to my apartment, I guess”, Renjun replied, shuffling to pick up the duffle bag. 

“I meant after that”, Jeno corrected. 

Renjun paused, then he let out a low laugh. “Go back to my apartment and do nothing for two months.” 

Jeno watched as Renjun shoved his phone into the front pocket of his bag. He could feel a sensation running through his body, stemming from his throat, the question searing the tip of his tongue. It was one problem out of many that he could pluck up the courage to face. 

“If you wanted to, uh”, Jeno began awkwardly, his words a little on the clumsy side. “I know my apartment isn’t as nice as yours, but, you could stay at my place, you know, just as a temporary thing while your ankle’s healing.” 

“Yes.” Renjun said immediately, head snapping up to look at Jeno. It felt easy, far too easy for them. 

“Is that alright?”, Jeno asked quizzically. “What about Hyunsik?” 

Renjun sank into the crutches, resting his hands on them and standing. “He won’t notice. I’m not making him any money, I doubt he’ll want anything to do with me apart from to check when I can get back on stage. I’ll just say I’ve gone home, I haven’t got x-rays for another month.” 

Renjun smiled at him then, the most genuine smile Jeno had seen since he’d been injured. 

\--

It was two days later that Renjun had come to Jeno’s apartment. This time he had more than just his coat and phone, a large grey suitcase behind him that Jeno had carried up the stairs while he moved on his crutches, carrying the same duffle bag he’d had at the hospital on his back. 

Jeno had cleared space in the drawers near to the bed on Renjun’s side and left him there to unpack while he went to the kitchen area. With his back to Renjun as he boiled the kettle on the counter, above the noise all he could hear were slow and steady movements, the unzipping of the suitcase, and then the opening and closing of drawers as Renjun placed his clothes inside them carefully. 

He returned to sit on the bed, two cups of instant coffee in his hands. He placed them both on the bedside table. 

“Thanks”, Renjun smiled, picking up a cup and warming his hands against the ceramic. He sipped slowly, swallowing down some of the liquid before he set it back on the table. 

“Need any help?”, Jeno asked. 

“I’m alright”, Renjun smiled, taking a pair of sweats and folding them neatly into the open drawer, reaching into the case again. Jeno watched him pull out his ballet shoes, holding them for a little too long. It made Jeno’s heart ache, seeing the shoes lay lifeless in his open palms. Renjun clenched his fists and the shoes scrunched up a little. “I thought I’d bring them”, he hesitated, “in case I need them.” 

Jeno wasn’t sure he had the heart to tell Renjun, he didn’t think he could be the one to, but the truth could only hide for so long. He avoided it, staring at the shoes in Renjun’s lap. “You’re still upset about the show.” 

“Yeah.” Renjun gripped the shoes tighter, “but I’ll be alright, I think I’ll be able to put pressure on it again in a few weeks. As soon as the cast comes off, I need to get these back on”, he glanced at the shoes. “They can wait till then.” 

Jeno couldn’t take it anymore, couldn’t face the months ahead like this, it had already gone unsaid for too long, the truth. He thought back to Renjun crumpled and hurt on the stage, and it made him shiver violently. “Renjun, you know there’s a chance, don’t you?” 

Renjun looked like he already knew what Jeno was talking about, but he seemed reluctant to hear the words, still clasping the ballet shoes. “What do you mean?”, he asked shakily. 

“I mean your dancing. It might not be the same as it used to be.” The words were pure anguish, and he saw Renjun’s expression change too, his hands were trembling as he held onto the shoes. “You’ve got to give yourself a chance, you need time to heal. If you hurt yourself again, you’re never going to dance.” Jeno feared the words were too harsh. He reached into Renjun’s lap, and Renjun’s hands went limp, letting go of the shoes, and allowing Jeno to place them carefully on the bed. 

“I know”, Renjun whispered finally. 

That was it, the push over the edge. The shock and denial he’d been gripping onto had worn away and fallen apart in an instant. Jeno saw his face crumble before he threw his head onto Jeno’s shoulder. He’d finally found an outlet for all of the pain. Renjun’s walls crashed around him in one sudden outpour. Sobs wracked loudly through his chest, and all Jeno could do was wrap his arms gently around him, holding him. He hated that he had triggered it, guilt flooded him again, but he held Renjun tightly, feeling the other hold him with an equal force. It was what they needed, both of them, but it wasn’t fair. Feeling Renjun crying against him, he wanted to cry too, to match the tears with his own. Instead he held onto Renjun’s shirt as his world fell apart. 

“I feel like I don’t have a purpose if I’m not dancing”, Renjun murmured into Jeno’s chest. 

Jeno held his face and Renjun closed his eyes. “I feel like it’s my fault.” He felt Renjun shake his head the slightest bit, and he knew that he was telling him in his own way that it wasn’t. He nodded to the cast, but Renjun’s eyes were still closed, cheek pressed onto his palm. “I hate seeing you like this. I just want you to be okay and I’m scared, but I’ll do everything I can to fix it.” A tear shot down Renjun’s cheek as he opened his eyes, close to Jeno, but his breathing was steadier than it had been. His face was stained with tears. 

“I want to go home”, Renjun whispered. 

Jeno didn’t understand. He still held onto Renjun, his own tears threatening to fall. “You’ve just come from there.” 

Renjun shook his head. “No”, he said. “I want to go _home_. With you. I want to stay at the bakery, and I want to go to the river. I want to forget about all of this just for a while.” He pointed to the cast on his foot. 

Jeno never expected the words to come from Renjun. He never thought that he’d hear Renjun say that he wanted to go home. He thought that Renjun had buried the past the day he had left it behind when he was sixteen. Perhaps them being together had reminded Renjun of what home used to mean to both of them. Jeno nodded and Renjun leant his head against his shoulder. 

They were as okay as they could be for now. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aaaa this chapter was kinda intense and technical to write, I'm sorry for the break, it took me a little while to figure it out properly to make sense!! I'm also sorry for more sadness :( I feel like I'm always promising happiness 'soon', but really the next chapter might bring a little more comfort than this one!!  
> kudos and comments always make my day!! thank you for reading!!  
> twitter: renjunfairydust  
> [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.qa/renjunfairydust)


	14. Chapter 14

Fields stretched on for miles, stacked in the distance as far as Renjun could see. Meadows of green and gold swept below the hills, the breeze crawling through the long grass, the skyline shadowed by morning mist and hazy clouds. It was not warm, dashes of icy white thrown carelessly onto the cold hills, as a painter would to their canvas, the breaking light from the sun an accessory to them. 

The carriage clattered suddenly, _metal on metal_ , the grating of heavy machinery, and the train lurched with enough force for Renjun to shift in his seat. He sank into the blue velvet cushioning, his crutches falling sideways and hitting the floor. Tutting, he reached for them, propping the sticks against the seat and then adjusting his leg awkwardly before returning to stare out of the murky window. 

The train shot along the tracks and more fields passed with the jerky movements, but it was not long before Renjun was interrupted by Jeno’s slow steps down the aisle in the centre of the train. Jeno moved cautiously, balancing handfuls of food which he set on the table, sandwich packets and bottled water falling on top of one another. He slumped down on the seat beside Renjun. 

“Lunch”, Jeno stated, grinning. 

“Thanks”, Renjun replied, snatching a bottle and a sandwich, then smiling gratefully. 

It had been a week since Renjun had said he wanted to go home. Now they were on the train, _home_ , to the place where they had both grown up. It seemed so easy, but it had needed preparation. Jeno had taken all the time off work that he could, four days - a day for travelling there, two days at home, and one day travelling back. It had been easier for Renjun, he had not seen Hyunsik since the day he had left hospital, it was not difficult to get away without being noticed. 

The hours passed. It had been so long since he had left Seoul, that Renjun had forgotten what the countryside away from it was like. He recognised these parts from when he was a child, the tree covered landscape, rural farmhouses, and small villages all blurred past them. 

“We’re nearly there, I recognise it now”, Renjun gushed, peering farther out of the window eagerly, like he was a child again. 

Jeno laughed. “I didn’t know it would be that exciting for you.” 

_Home_. There had been a time when Renjun had never wanted to call the town that again, but with every field that passed by he felt it flourish within him, the comfort of a place to call _home_. But the twinge of excitement was dulled by a flood of dread. The closer he got to home, the further away he became from his ballet. He was already far away enough from it, experiencing the frustration of being injured. 

_He had lost his focus, and because of that his ankle had broken - he had promised himself that he would not cry again, once had been enough for him._

“You’ve been back haven’t you, since ballet school?”, Jeno asked. 

“Yeah”, Renjun answered truthfully, “but it’s been a while.” 

He knew that home may not be the haven he had built it to be in his mind. He was afraid of what he was going to find, whether he would see his mother, or be faced with something that terrified him even more. He _was_ terrified of losing it all - his mother, Jeno, dancing, he was trying to hold on because if he let go his world might fall apart. The plea for home had been desperate, his face buried in Jeno’s shoulder when he had been so overwhelmed that everything had short circuited into those words. 

He knew that he couldn’t run away again. He was tired, exhausted of running away. Running would not solve anything. 

“Did you call your dad and tell him we’re coming?”, Renjun asked Jeno. 

“I did”, Jeno said, patting his left pocket where Renjun could see his phone sticking out. 

“He’s okay with me staying too?” 

“Of course.” Jeno shifted so he was close to Renjun. 

The meadows came into focus as the train slowed, colours sharp as they pulled into the station. Renjun saw the same view of home that he had left behind all those years ago: tall white fences with chipped paint, guarded by ivy vines curled around the base of each post. It felt like home, from the empty platform to the benches beside the stairs, he still knew all of it. The visions of the city he had become so accustomed to faded along with the pressures of Seoul, instead he became consumed by rivers and hills, and everything that had once brought him the comfort that he had needed, in the days that he spent there with Jeno. 

He glanced at Jeno in the seat beside him. This was everything that he had wanted. It was beautiful, and felt real for once in his life, so real that every few seconds the terror twisted through his veins. Adrenaline seized control, spiralling, and Renjun instantly became drunk on its euphoria. 

“Are you going to keep staring?” Jeno laughed as he peered at Renjun, hoisting a suitcase from the shelf above their seats. 

Renjun grinned as he saw Jeno tug on the handle and drag the case forward. “Sorry.” 

“You alright with those?” Jeno nodded to the crutches. 

Renjun grabbed them. “I’ll be fine.” He lifted himself up. “It’s just a bit of a fuss.” 

It had been more than a bit of a fuss when Jeno had to hold Renjun’s arm on the step from the train onto the platform below. Renjun felt resentment as he glared at the metal poles that touched the concrete unsteadily. He wavered, walking uneasily towards the gate, and sucking in air sharply as he almost lost his balance. He still had not become used to walking like this. Jeno caught his arm again, steadying him. 

Home calmed him, like a gentle breeze despite the cold winter air that greeted his cheeks. The sky had begun to darken with the evening that crept along the horizon and left dusk behind. He breathed in deeply, the air smelled different to Seoul, fresh like wet grass. Everything was familiar, and for a moment he could believe that not a single day had passed since he’d left. 

He looked at Jeno, overwhelmed. “I missed this.” 

Jeno’s eyes held a fondness, a warmth that fought the cold air so valiantly, and smiled. It lingered, like home had given him all the time to let it. “Come on”, he said, pulling open the gate, “the cab will be here soon.” 

They waited outside the station, and even when the cab drove up next to them, Renjun was still smiling like it was the happiest he had ever been. 

\--

They arrived at the bakery after the sun had set. 

It was dark, but Renjun could still see the building lit by old streetlamps and the dim glow from inside, the place where his journey had begun so many years ago. A moment in time, caught, like nothing at all had changed. The bakery, and the baker’s son stood outside it with his best friend. 

Jeno stepped forward first, rifling through his pocket and pushing his key into the lock. He twisted it and Renjun watched the door push open easily. He let out a quiet laugh as the bell above the entrance rang and echoed through the room. 

“He’s packed up early, must be upstairs already”, Jeno murmured, looking around at the empty bakery. The suitcase rattled on the rough floor as he pulled it to the bottom of the stairs in the dimly lit storeroom. 

Renjun still felt as though he could hardly talk, memories of his life unravelling yet he could not seem to place them exactly. Jeno gestured for Renjun to join him. 

“You go up first, I’ll follow in case you…err...need help.” 

Renjun grimaced at Jeno, then at the stairs. They were steep, twisting sharply to the apartment above the bakery, a lot worse than the gradual climb up to Jeno’s apartment in Seoul that he had got used to recently. He pressed onto the first step with ease, and then the second, Jeno following. He managed the third and the fourth, and then he stumbled, causing Jeno to place a hand protectively on his hip so he did not fall backwards. 

“I’m behind you”, Jeno rushed, accompanied by a sharp intake of breath as he steadied Renjun. His words were clumsy, almost awkwardly aware of the embarrassment that Renjun felt. 

The door at the top of the stairs was not locked. Renjun pushed on it with his shoulder and instantly it was _home_ all over again. 

They peered into the lounge, where Jeno’s dad sat in a chair, his head raised as he must have heard them coming up the stairs. Behind him the table was set for dinner. His face had not changed, only a few new creases since Renjun had last seen him. He was smiling widely at them both as he sprung up, running to Jeno first and throwing his arms around him, pulling him into a tight hug. Jeno let go of the suitcase handle and threw his arms around his dad. 

“I missed you”, Mr Lee spoke, lifting his head from Jeno’s shoulder and meeting eyes with Renjun, _“and you”_ , he let go of Jeno for a second, embracing Renjun equally tightly. 

_“Mr Lee!”_ , Renjun smiled, voice muffled. 

The man let go, arms still resting on Renjun’s shoulder as he glanced at the cast on his foot. _“Oh, what have you done to yourself, Renjun?”_ , he said with a concerned smile, not giving him a chance to reply before he continued fussing. “I didn’t think I’d ever see you again. It’s been years, look at you, all grown up, and a big star too.” 

“I’m off duty”, Renjun answered, pointing down at his broken ankle, “no dancing, just a whole lot of spare time.” 

“Well, I’m very honoured to have you here”, Mr Lee chuckled as he moved to tap Jeno’s shoulder. “Come, food’s ready and waiting for you both.” 

“I could’ve cooked you know, dad”, Jeno laughed. 

“I know”, Mr Lee smiled fondly. “But it’s been a long time since I’ve been able to do something like this for you.” 

They sat around the table together as they ate, Jeno beside Renjun, their knees touching lightly. Mr Lee sat opposite them, smiling broadly as he set his own bowl down. “So Renjun, what’s it like to be a national treasure?” 

Renjun almost burst out laughing at the question, glancing up from his plate and smiling. “I don’t think it’s like that”, he started. 

“He’s being modest, he’s amazing”, Jeno cut in nonchalantly, twisting a string of noodles around his chopsticks and blowing on them as the steam rose from them. 

“Is he now?”, Mr Lee smiled. 

“He is, I’ve been to his shows, I’ve never seen anything like it.” Jeno put a hand proudly on Renjun’s arm but retracted it quickly. 

Renjun frowned playfully, trying to downplay the situation, but Jeno’s face scrunched into a fond grin. Mr Lee watched the interaction, eyes flicking between them before he spoke. 

“It’s so nice to see that you two have met up again, let the past be the past, it’s lovely to have you both sitting here together, it reminds me of the old days.” 

Renjun slipped into normality quickly, they both did. It was easy to pretend that the bakery was home because for so many years Renjun had felt its welcoming security. 

He knew that Mr Lee had not meant anything bad by it when he suddenly looked serious and asked. “Have you been home yet, Renjun?” 

The sinking feeling came when Renjun remembered his mother, the same feeling that had pulled him to his injury, the force that tore into him. 

She may be here, and she may not, that terrified him the most. 

“We came here first”, Renjun answered quietly, swirling his noodles around in the bowl to distract himself. 

Jeno had been the first to yawn, the day finally catching up with him, with both of them as they tidied away the clean dishes they had washed up together. 

“I’m sorry we don’t have a spare bedroom for you, Renjun. I left the mattress out on the floor in Jeno’s room instead. Is that alright for you?”, Mr Lee asked. 

Renjun looked up sharply at Jeno, a little stunned. _More secrets_. Jeno smiled apologetically but said nothing. 

“Yeah, that’s fine, thank you”, Renjun replied. 

The mattress was spread on the floor beside Jeno’s bed just as Jeno’s dad had said it would be, quilt folded neatly on top of it. The sight was nostalgic, and he laughed a little, mellowing when the burden of the secret weighed down on him as it had in the kitchen. _The secret_ , that they kept in Seoul, was a secret at home too. It was no one’s fault but still he stole sad glances at Jeno, watching the other change out of his t-shirt. Renjun’s stare lingered on Jeno’s chest, the definition in it, he wanted to run his fingers over the outline so softly that he could take in every detail. He pulled his eyes away. 

Renjun pulled off his own t-shirt, throwing it in a heap on the carpet. He glanced up at Jeno, a fresh shirt hanging loosely from his shoulders. 

“What’s wrong?”, Jeno asked, squinting. 

“Nothing.” 

Renjun threw his pyjama shirt over his head. 

“You don’t have to sleep on that you know?” 

“I know.” Renjun noticed the walls of Jeno’s room, they had been painted over in white. “There used to be stars here”, he said. “All over this wall, there were stars.” Renjun traced the wall with his finger, feeling the rough plaster. “There used to be stars everywhere.” 

The room was silent, but Renjun’s gaze stayed on the wall, listening to the faint shuffling sounds behind him as a drawer was opened and closed. 

“I got rid of those stars”, Jeno stated and Renjun turned his head, catching sight of the plastic box he held between his fingers. It was the star machine, the one Jeno had loved so dearly as a child. Dust had collected on top of it which Jeno blew then wiped the surface with his forearm, the particles collecting in the air and floating to the floor. “I still have these stars”, he smiled and sat on the bed. 

“You kept that?” 

Jeno nodded. 

Renjun’s shoulders relaxed, the tension in the room dissolving as he laughed. He pushed himself forward with his crutches, flicking the light switch off. Then he found Jeno in the darkness and sat on the bed, reaching for his arm and sliding his fingers down until he felt his hand. Goose bumps formed on Jeno’s skin and his own prickled with energy from the contact. He placed his hand over Jeno’s and together they held the machine. With a flick of his thumb, the power surged, and the room was illuminated. 

The colours came instantly: greens and silvers and blues, stars on the wall and on the ceiling. _It had been so long_. Renjun was glad for the darkness, or Jeno would see the tears welling in his eyes. He swallowed them, biting his lip, and focusing on the swirling stars. There were stars in the sky outside too, Renjun could see them through the window, clear, bright stars, like a piece of his childhood he never thought he would be able to hold onto again. He stroked his fingers over Jeno’s hand, lingering, touching each part slowly, his knuckles, his wrist, taking every bit of him in, his senses heightened by the darkness. 

“Are you happy here?”, Jeno asked. Renjun could see the softness in his eyes caught by the light of the artificial stars. 

“I’m happy.” It was the truth, his part of home, his happiness. “I missed the bakery, and I missed your dad…I missed this.” He nodded between them. 

Jeno looked at him with a seriousness that Renjun had not seen since they left Seoul. “Did you miss your mom?” 

Renjun breathed out unevenly, he was too tired to recoil. Instead he leant his head on Jeno’s shoulder, closing his eyes sleepily. “I don’t know”, he mumbled, pressing against Jeno’s warmth. 

“Is she back?” 

“I don’t know”, Renjun repeated. “I don’t even know where she went.” 

“If you want to go to your house tomorrow, you can”, Jeno said softly. “And if you want me to come, I can, or I can stay here.” 

Renjun nodded, opening his eyes slowly and seeing the colours again. “I want to.” 

When the colours eventually blurred into one in Renjun’s tired eyes, they switched the machine off, Renjun comforted still by the real stars in the sky. Jeno climbed into bed, scooting back against the wall, and patting the space beside him. Renjun climbed in after him, it was cramped, his back pressed up against Jeno, kicking him accidently with the cast. 

“You’re a bit bulky with that”, Jeno teased. 

“I’m sorry.” Renjun blushed in the darkness, wishing the cast was not there as he tried to find a comfortable position for it. 

They slept side by side, Jeno’s arms around Renjun’s waist, Renjun’s own version of perfection, empty mattress on the floor as it had been so many times before all those years ago. 

\--

On the second day, Renjun went to the house where he had spent his childhood. 

Jeno was beside him at the gate. It appeared the same from the outside, grey walls and white door, the grass overgrown on the path – the place was lifeless. 

The key in Renjun’s hand was warm from the heat of his palm. He had kept it for years in the drawer next to his bed, although it had been _years_ since he had needed to use it. There were no keyrings on it, just the small silver key between his fingers. 

He still recalled the last time he had stood in the same place alone, after graduating ballet school when he’d come to visit his mother. She had been the same as always then, and forgotten that he was visiting, it had broken his heart the same way it always did. Since then, there had only been occasional contact, a text or a phone call, here and there, erratically. 

The house was as lifeless inside, and Renjun guessed as soon as he stepped into the doorway, that his mother was not there. Still, he called out. 

_“Mom?”_

The sound echoed. 

There was no reply. 

He wished that she had told him _where_ , so he did not have to feel the worry. His mother had always been good at sweeping things under the rug, he wondered if it were the same now, if she had her own secrets that she was keeping. 

Whilst it was lifeless inside, something had definitely changed. Shoes were placed neatly next to the door, coats hung on the back of it, the cushions on the couch laid straight in a line. Neither of them spoke as Renjun walked to the kitchen. The house had stolen their voices with its silence. Dishes and plates were stacked into the cupboard instead of being slung messily beside the sink. He had never seen it look how it did now. It was as though she knew she was going away. 

She had never been away for this long, and the house had never been so tidy, and all of a sudden his world did not make sense again. 

Renjun left the kitchen, hearing Jeno’s footsteps behind him, he climbed the stairs awkwardly to find his bedroom. 

The room was undisturbed, no dust, bedsheets made and pulled straight to rid them of any creases. She had kept all of it like it had been, like she didn’t want to let go. His old ballet bag was still hooked on the back of the door, he had left it when he was sixteen, and his uniform was folded on shelves beside his bed. 

_He wished he did not care, he wished it so hard. He did not know why he had expected her to be there._

Touching the clean white bedsheet, he sighed. It felt like the first breath he had let out since he’d stepped into the house, and it rattled loudly across the room. 

“Renjun?” 

He looked up sharply, hand snapping away from the soft cotton, helpless again. 

“She’s really gone”, Renjun spoke. 

“Renjun”, Jeno repeated sternly, “how long has it been since you came here?” 

Renjun had not been in the house for so long, he could hardly place a time on it, but he counted the years in his head, forgetting what had happened in each one of them until he had seen Jeno outside the theatre. 

“Three years”, Renjun said slowly. 

Jeno’s eyes narrowed, but he stayed silent. 

Renjun couldn’t lift his arms out of the crutches in time for the hug that followed. They were pressed against his sides, Jeno’s arms around him. Renjun rubbed his head against Jeno’s neck, nuzzling there like it was his safety, in the eye of the storm, in a house that had always been chaos for him. 

\--

On the third day, they went to the river. 

It was the place he had most wanted to visit, the place where he’d last seen lilies blooming in the wild, his last memory of home, where everything had last been alright. He used to believe that the river could fix everything. 

They sat on a log by the bank, near to the calm water that flowed gently past them. The winter evening had left the sky completely dark, and the stars had come out. Renjun had missed the stars at home but out here, he saw them clearly. 

The grass was doused with frost, the cold air meeting the colder ground. Renjun shivered and looked out at the water again. He pulled his coat tighter, but he was still freezing. The crutches lay abandoned in the grass. 

“Remember when we used to roll down the hill.” Renjun turned to Jeno and smiled at him, he laughed. “And we’d end up underneath the stargazer lilies.” He nodded to the bare land by the river, where the lilies used to be, where the lilies were not now. Only the shoots were pushing through the earth, chased by winter but coaxed with the promise of spring. “They’re gone now.” 

“It’ll be spring soon; they’ll start to bloom then.” 

“Yeah.” 

Renjun wished he could have seen the lilies then, but he had kept hold of their memory, he could imagine what the river would be like with the lilies framing it so beautifully. At the river, he could be ten, and the world did not make sense to him, but the river did, everything about the town was new, and so were the memories of the river, and Jeno. He could be fourteen, and the world made too much sense, the world never gave him what he wanted. And he could be sixteen, about to lose the river, to lose the world, but then Jeno’s lips were warm on his - all the years he had thought that it could never happen. 

“It’s different here”, Renjun said at last. He could not place what, but everything down to the quiet had shifted slightly. The water rippled softly. 

“It feels like a lifetime ago since we were here.” Jeno mused as he rubbed his hands together for warmth. 

“Is five years a lifetime?” 

“It can be.” 

It had been years since Jeno had given Renjun the necklace. So much had happened, but Renjun still wondered where exactly his mind had been over those five years because his memories after the river had been a mess. Now they had come full circle back to it. “I guess so”, he said. 

“I still know nothing about you”, Jeno spoke, breaking his gaze from the river to Renjun. “You can’t tell me you went away for five years and absolutely nothing happened.” 

Renjun laughed weakly. “Ballet. Ballet happened. Ballet school and dance training, that’s what happened. I feel like I don’t remember anything else, except everyone thinking that I was going to break.” 

“Going to break?” 

“All through school, everyone thought I was going to break, that I couldn’t do it, even my teacher. And in the real world, everyone thinks I’m made of glass.” Renjun looked at his ankle. “I did break, so maybe I am made of glass.” 

“No Renjun, you’re not.” 

“I just want to dance again.” Renjun remembered Jeno’s words, the words that wrenched his heart whenever he thought of them. “I feel useless with these.” He picked up the crutches weakly, slinging them down into the grass with force. “I’m a ballet dancer that can’t dance. I spent so long trying not to feel anything, I hated it, but as soon as I did everything went wrong again. I wanted to feel everything with you, the extremes, because it’s been so long, and now I really am broken.” 

He had not chosen between ballet and Jeno, it was an impossible choice. He peered up at Jeno, his shaky breath clouding in front of his face. “I want ballet, but I also want you, and I don’t know what to do. I’m so scared, _I’m so fucking scared of myself_ , because I keep getting it all wrong and every time, I almost lose you.” 

Renjun could still recall the feeling of Jeno’s lips when they were sixteen, the memory had never left, a warm embrace on a cold night, the most tender they had ever been, pouring confused emotions into the softness. He had kept the memory close, all through his teenage years, with visions of their reunion. When it came it had not been like that, it was confused, but it was hot fire, too hot that it burnt them both, because secrets hurt to keep. They used to move with caution, and now they moved too fast. 

“You’re not broken, not like that”, Jeno said again. “I know that you’re not.” 

Renjun wanted to lean his head on Jeno’s shoulder like he had done on the first night at home. He shivered violently instead, a rush of cold running through him from the air. “I know”, he sighed, “but sometimes I feel it. Relationships, and emotions, they’re distractions, and I feel like _Hyunsik’s_ puppet, nothing else. I wish there were something real, that he had an actual passion for it.” Renjun pulled at the grass below him, balled it into his hands like he used to when he was a child. “I’m sure that I’m just his paycheck. It makes me not feel like myself.” 

Jeno shook his head. “You’re still the same person, Renjun. You’re still the boy I met in the bakery.” He laughed and more air clouded around him, “the boy that stuffed cake into his mouth, and you’re the boy I wanted to take to the dance when I was fifteen but was too afraid to ask. You’re still the person that I tried to forget about all the way through college, I wanted to forget you, because it hurt so much. I’m glad I never did.” His voice shook a little after the confession. “You’re still stubborn, and you’re still brave.” 

“I’m not brave”, Renjun laughed, but Jeno’s face was serious. 

“Yes, you are, you’re not made of glass at all.” Jeno paused, and Renjun thought he saw the soft glow of tears caught in his eyes with the moonlight. He looked at the floor, and then back up to Renjun, smiling, “and I still love you.” 

The words did not feel real to Renjun. He had never heard them from Jeno, and it was completely overwhelming. The last time he had sat beside the river, he had believed that he did not understand love, and that he never would. He’d grown up since then, they both had, but not entirely. He had not done all the growing that he needed to do, but perhaps he had grasped the concept enough to understand it at least a little. He had heard the words only a handful of times in his life and said them even less. The last instance had been the day he left when he was sixteen, from his mother as he hugged her quietly. 

_He had to stop running. Jaemin had told him, and Junhui had, and now he felt ready to say it himself._

He could hear the water lapping gently against the bank, and he could see Jeno’s face. It had been so long since he’d had a life with Jeno, when the feelings were new, the times when he’d watch Jeno’s back as he walked away from the lockers, he’d not stood a chance, in love completely but not able to understand it. 

Renjun felt relief flood his body as he finally found the words that had evaded him for so long. 

“I don’t remember at which point in my life I fell in love with you”, he said, “I don’t have a clue, but I don’t remember a time when I didn’t love you.” 

He put a freezing hand on Jeno’s face, rubbing a thumb over his jaw, the warmth scorching his fingertips. “I love you”, he breathed, _“I love you so, so much.”_ He moved his hand, leaning to kiss the place where his thumb had been, and then Jeno’s lips, without frenzy, like it was not a secret, just warmth and softness. 

“You’re beautiful”, Jeno spoke, running a forefinger gently above Renjun’s eyebrow and smiling at him. “I’ve thought that for a long time.” 

A part of him wanted to stay curled next to Jeno forever, but he pulled back, their shoulders brushing as he spoke. “How are you so strong?”, he murmured. “How did we do it so differently, I fell apart and you didn’t.” 

“I did fall apart”, Jeno replied and his hair touched Renjun’s cheek where he leaned against it, “but I knew eventually I’d have to put myself back together. I’d already lost someone close to me once.” 

“Your mother”, whispered Renjun. 

Jeno nodded. “When I lost you, I already knew how to bury my feelings because I’d had to learn.” 

The stars reflected across the river brightly. Renjun watched the sky and smiled. “You told me once that she was a star.” He felt Jeno move next to him and guessed that he too was looking at the sky. 

“She is”, Jeno said quietly. He sounded on the verge of tears again. 

“Which one?” 

Jeno laughed, a fond laugh, and pointed at the sky to one of the stars. “That one.” Renjun could hear the smile in his voice this time. There was silence after that as they stared up at the sky, until Jeno spoke quietly again. “Renjun?” 

“Yeah.” 

“Your mom will come back, and we’ll see her next time.” 

Renjun looked at Jeno and smiled, “okay”, he said, and sat up. He wanted to believe him. “You’re lucky to have your dad”, he continued, “I’m lucky to have him too.” Jeno’s hair fell over his eyes as he lowered his head. “Jeno, does he know?”, he asked slowly. “How much does he know about you? How much does he know about this?” He nodded between them. 

Jeno breathed out. “He doesn’t know anything. I didn’t know what to tell him.” 

“I thought you told him everything.” 

“I don’t know what he would say, I’m scared. When we kissed, when you left, I was scared.” 

Renjun smiled sadly. “I understand.” 

“I know it’s fine, but I don’t know how to tell him.” 

“You told no one, did you?”, Renjun asked. 

“I told Yeeun”, Jeno mumbled. 

_“Yeeun?”_

“I told her”, Jeno confirmed. 

Renjun sighed. “I used to think that you _liked_ her. I used to be so jealous because I thought you two had everything. Now I just miss her.” He looked at Jeno. “She taught me my first ever piece of proper ballet, you know?” She wasn’t here now, another detail of home that had been altered, it was not exactly the same. 

“I kissed her too”, Jeno said, his head lowered again. “After you left”, he added. 

Renjun could only laugh weakly at how confused they had both been. “It’s okay, I’m sure you didn’t fuck it all up as badly as I did.” He sighed. “There was this boy, and I wasn’t in love with him”, he laughed louder, “I didn’t even like him. I hated him, and I kissed him and then I hated myself for doing it.” His emotions had not made sense, he thought back to Minseo and reeled slightly. 

They sat silently, glad to be close. Renjun shut his eyes for a moment, and he could imagine that everything was ordinary, and they were just two kids in a small town, their love was massive, but on a small scale. They were simply _in love_ , no complications. He did not have to think about anything else. “I won’t leave you again”, Renjun murmured, and he felt Jeno nod against his cheek. “Why does it never go right for us?” 

“I don’t know”, Jeno replied quietly, and Renjun leant his head back onto his chest to forget everything else. They stayed beside the river for hours, the cold finally getting the better of them and forcing them to make their way back to the bakery. 

Mr Lee was still awake, waiting for them, when they walked through the door together. 

\--

The days at home had been beautiful, but everything had to come to an end. 

Even the end was beautiful, it filled him with hope. 

They had to pack, the train left in an hour, and Renjun piled his clothing reluctantly into the case he and Jeno were sharing. Mr Lee stood in the doorway; a paper box balanced between his fingers. Renjun looked up from the growing pile of clothes in the suitcase as he held it out to Jeno. 

“Cakes, for both of you”, Mr Lee smiled, “I couldn’t resist, freshly made this morning.” 

Renjun smiled from where he sat on the bed, watching Jeno thank him as he took the box from his dad and set it on a table. 

“It’s gone so quickly”, Mr Lee continued, putting a hand on Jeno’s shoulder. “I’m going to miss you, come and visit again soon”, he said. “You too Renjun, you know that you’re always welcome here.” 

He smiled fondly, before leaving the room, moving into the lounge opposite. Renjun watched Jeno follow him, the door still open. 

“Dad”, he heard Jeno call and then he could no longer hear the rest of the conversation. 

He could see it though, Jeno’s hands shaking nervously, Mr Lee looking at Jeno earnestly. Renjun dropped the shirt in his hand, he could only see the back of Jeno’s head. Mr Lee nodded, and the muffled voices stopped. There was a pause and Jeno stood still. Mr Lee’s face was expressionless, and then he came closer, wrapping his arms carefully around his son. Jeno put his head on his fathers’ shoulder and threw his arms around his neck. His shoulders shook, but Renjun knew that everything was going to be okay. 

\--

The train back to Seoul was busier than it had been coming home, but it was still peaceful and Renjun could stare out of the window as the countryside reverted to city lights gradually. Jeno sat beside him, they hadn’t spoken much, but it was a comfortable silence. 

“What if it’s not the same when we go back?”, Renjun asked, thinking of the calm that the visit home had brought them. 

“Do you not like Seoul?” 

“Sometimes.” 

Renjun pictured all the good parts of Seoul, everything that he held close in it. There’d been ballet school, that had made his dream a reality, Jaemin, Junhui, and Seoul had Jeno now too. It was just a place, just like home was. There were stresses in Seoul, there were different ones away from it. 

“It won’t be the same, but we’ll find our new normal there. Seoul’s home too now”, Jeno replied finally. 

_Home_. He had held onto an idealised concept for comfort, using the word to embody what had been missing from his childhood. It had only felt like home when he was with Jeno. Only then did the concept of home become meaningful. Home was Jeno. Seoul had made Renjun withdraw and home had opened him up again. 

Renjun took a deep breath in and then let it go slowly. 

“You okay?”, Jeno asked. 

“I’m okay”, Renjun replied. 

He had found a new understanding of love. 

\--

It had taken eight weeks for Renjun’s ankle to heal, and in that time, Hyunsik had barely noticed that he was gone. It was easy enough when his manager did not know anything about him, when he thought Renjun had a doting mother that he had gone home to. It was so easy. 

Renjun moved back into his own apartment, beside the theatre, which he had not missed in the weeks spent with Jeno. It felt huge and empty. 

The hard part was left. Physiotherapy. With Jeno. 

It scared him, and he knew that it scared Jeno too, that he may never dance, only time would tell. He had the first x-ray the day that the cast was removed. It was okay. It did not tell much, only that the bone had healed completely. Then he had been able to put pressure on it for the first time in those eight weeks, not a lot of pressure, but it was progress. 

The first time Jeno had come to the studio as Renjun’s physiotherapist, he had stayed for two hours. Renjun was fully discharged into his care now. It continued like that. He had not begun any actual dancing yet, Jeno had told him that his ankle wasn’t ready, so they worked on strengthening it, slow stretches, repetitive exercises. 

He saw Junhui sometimes, in the studio opposite his. He knew the dances that he practised, with the new vice. It hurt. 

Jeno came and went four times a week, one time stuck in Renjun’s mind. 

Hyunsik had been in the room, and Jeno had been packing up to leave for the day. Hyunsik had scowled down at Renjun’s ankle and sighed. 

“I told you, you were distracted”, he’d said. 

Renjun had not offered anything, burning holes into the floor with his gaze. He knew Jeno had heard it too. He did not speak. 

Instead he shut his eyes for a moment, and thought of home, home with Jeno. He knew that he had a long way to go until he could dance again - if he ever could. That was far away, and in his mind home was close. It would be tough, if he were to get back on stage as he desperately wanted and the glow from their days spent together at home was slipping away. He wondered how long he could hold onto it. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which noren take almost 100K words to drop the L word.  
> Hello I hope you enjoyed this little does of nostalgia and that it tied up some loose ends!!  
> Only four chapters left now I really cannot believe it but I can't wait to share them!  
> I appreciate you all so much!  
> Kudos and comments make my day!  
> \- Elle  
> twitter: renjunfairydust 
> 
> [curiouscat](https://curiouscat.qa/renjunfairydust)


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